A Web of Words
by Albireo
Summary: Loki is taken prisoner by the Avengers, and Tony can't help it - he starts to kinda like the guy. Frostiron, eventually. I will go down with this ship.
1. Chapter 1

So. Uh. Yeah. This is more or less the longest thing I've ever written. It's also the first fanfic I've written in years o.O

There will be frostiron, and small amounts of angst. Because we all have Loki feels :3

None of the characters are mine, etc. Enjoy. Comments/criticism much appreciated.

* * *

"So, what are we going to do with him?"

The Avengers were sitting around the table of one of Stark Tower's many kitchens. The reason Stark Tower had so many kitchens was really quite simple - for Tony Stark, "kitchen" was essentially a synonym for "large liquor cabinet", and Tony Stark was not a man who liked to be more than five floors away from a liquor cabinet. Therefore, Stark Tower - by then Avengers HQ - had a large number of kitchens, almost all of which were almost always well-stocked (although not always with food, per se), and it was around a kitchen table that the Avengers had gathered to discuss the fate of their newest…guest.

"I want him out of here," Fury said, gesturing to the hologram hovering just above the table. "Lock him up, send him into space, hell, send him to another _dimension_, just send him away from here."

"My brother will cause mischief wherever he goes," Thor said, his expression stony. "Simply sending him away will not put a stop to it."

The hologram of Loki - the image taken directly from the cameras in his cell - smirked, almost as if it could hear them.

Capturing Loki had been easier than Tony had expected, in the end. In the past, _capturing_ their friendly neighbourhood chaos god had never gone well. Well, to say it _hadn't gone well_ was an understatement, really, considering that the last time they'd "captured" Loki, he had managed to take over a small city from the inside of his cell, and that his escape had involved flooding and major property damage and _frankly sickening _amounts of shape shifting and transfiguration, and they still hadn't figured out how to remove the tentacles safely, so a few guards were still-

Anyway. It hadn't gone well.

But this time, Loki had seemed - almost _off his game_. Sure, there had been a few craters, but eventually it had only taken four of them (Widow, Hawkeye, Iron Man and the ever-sparklin' Captain - two ex-assassins, a tin can full of sarcasm and the personification of patriotism, and _oh boy_, weren't they a team) to take him down. Thinking about it, Tony almost felt as if he'd _cheated_. None of them had come away with anything that would take more than a week to heal, and Loki had given himself up with a smirk. They'd brought him back to the Tower in silence, put him in the sturdiest cell they could find, and _voila_. One captured chaos god.

"I don't like it," Clint said. "Loki's as tough as hell, he's never this easy to bring in."

Tony eyed the hologram suspiciously, thinking. On some level, he knew Clint was right. Loki _was_ tougher than this, and the way he was smirking at them from the corner of his cell was…more than worrying, and really, what was to say he wouldn't just break out and kill them all in the middle of the night?

"Well, what are we going to do, let him go?" he said. "I mean, seriously, the guy's probably planning _something_, but we can't exactly just turn him out onto the streets. Not that there are, uh, any streets _left_ around fifty-second street right about now, he kinda made sure of that…"

"We're not gonna let him go," Fury cut him off. "But I'm not happy about keeping him here, either."

"Well, have we tried talking to him?" There's something inherently _polite_ about the way Steve talks, as if his voice carries with it an echo of the 1940s. "No, I _know_ we've tried - alright, repeatedly - but do you think we might be able to get him to see reason?"

Thor perked up at that; Fury simply looked sceptical.

In his cell, Loki was letting tendrils of green light curl around his wrists and over his fingers and Tony couldn't help but think - because this is how his mind works, how his mind has always worked, he has never been able to resist taking things apart to see how they work, to see how they could be changed, adapted for other uses -

"Guys," he said. One by one, the others turned to stare at him, and he knew he must have had the most whacked-out look on his face, but his thoughts were racing, because _damn, you couldn't find a more perfect test subject if you tried, well, without the homicidal urges, but_-

"Stark?"

"We could use him," he said, bringing his attention back to the present with a jolt. Fury simply raised his eyebrows, and the expression on Thor's face said that he had to tread very, very carefully here, so he continued slowly - "Loki's key advantage is his magic, and we've never had much opportunity to study that in-depth - no offense, but there's only so much we can do with Mjölnir when no-one can lift it - and if I could just figure out how it _works_, I'd be willing to bet that we could use it-"

Fury still looked sceptical, but Banner was looking up, a gleam of interest in his eyes.

"Tony's right. I mean, Loki might not be the most willing participant, but this is a huge opportunity…"

"I will not have my brother harmed," Thor said, in the kind of voice that brooks no opposition.

"The kind of scans I'm thinking of, I wouldn't even have to touch him. Not that I'd really want to."

"I don't see the problem with that. If you can convince him to let you anywhere near him." This from Natasha, who was lounging against a counter with an expression that simply screamed _bored_.

Fury remained silent for a moment longer, but eventually he nodded, and Tony felt something glorious and manic blossom in his chest.

"Alright. But if I hear you've opened up a portal or turned the rest of the team into rabbits or whatever, I'll have you doing paperwork for the rest of your goddamn life."

In the past, Tony had tried to figure out what Loki's magic was. Of course he had - he's a genius, he's spent his whole life picking things apart to see how they work. And really, after taking a few blasts of unidentified green lightning to the chest, the drive to figure it out became impossible to resist.

And he'd made progress. He'd tracked radiation and measured energy fluctuations, designed whole systems to measure Loki's magic and its effects. He'd built things - cameras and scanners and shields, all specifically designed to track and trace _whatever it is_ that Loki does. (Half of these machines had, incidentally, been lost; Tony Stark is not a man who is careful with his possessions, and his workshop…well, the less said about his workshop, the better.)

But the thing is, it's difficult to research something you don't have access to. Mjölnir might be magical, but it also apparently weighs about as much as a dwarf star, which makes it impractical for research purposes, and it hardly compares to a real, living subject.

So, yeah, Tony was excited. Because whilst being a superhero is fun, he is a scientist at heart, and this is what he lives for. He dreams of dissecting the universe, teasing out its secrets, and hell, Loki might be a chaos god, he might be a maniac and a murderer, but he's also a walking cipher, a fucking _torrent_ of discoveries waiting to be made and this? Yeah, this is what Tony lives for.

He bounded down to the cells (via his lab) with a grin on his face, looking for all the world like a six-year-old on Christmas morning.

Well, a six-year-old armed with a few miles of copper wiring, sixteen modified Geiger counters and a death wish. But hey, who was counting?

"Why, what a pleasant surprise."

Loki's tone was light, almost sincere. Tony found him lounging in the corner of his cell, staring up into one of the cameras, a bored expression on his face. He was still wearing his armour - _and holy shit, these people really aren't familiar with the concept of comfort, are they_ - but the remains of their earlier fight, the dust and dents and scratches, had all disappeared. The bronze plates gleamed under the electric lights.

"Well, I aim to please," Tony shot back, because hey, he's a talker, always has been, always will be.

Loki grinned at him through the glass. It was an unnerving expression, bestial, all teeth, but Tony didn't care.

"Okay, so," he said, laying out his equipment - Geiger counters, radiation monitors, you name it, he's got it - on the floor. "Here's the deal." He let the words tumble out of his mouth carelessly, preferring to concentrate on the machines in his hands. "That magic of yours. It's, uh, it's quite something, really, and certain one-eyed directors would like to know a little more about it. So you're going to…sit there, or creep about and be sarcastic, or whatever you like to do to entertain yourself, and I'm going to sit _here_ and figure out…how you do what you do."

"So, I'm a guinea pig."

Tony paused, looked up. Loki had moved closer, and was standing with the tips of his fingers pressed against the glass. For a moment, he wondered how Loki had managed to master _colloquialisms_ like that, when Thor still spoke like a hero from a cheaply-made period drama.

"Yeah," he said, eventually. "Yeah, you're basically the mother of all lab-rats."

Loki quirked one eyebrow at his phrasing, but said nothing.

"And hey, you can talk about magic all you want, but I'm firmly of the opinion that your magic is just a different branch of science, and I am going to figure out how it works if it damn well kills me."

The smile that played about Loki's mouth was dangerous that time, and Tony suddenly wished he'd used a different phrase.

"Well then," Loki said softly. "You'd better get started."

And Christ, it was fascinating. Really. It took Tony two hours to find the right strain of data, the right kind of radiation, and then - well, he's a scientist, and even building his suit wasn't quite this fun, because he's fairly sure that the things he's discovering, the patterns he's tracing are entirely new, never seen before by anyone, and that's - that's brilliant.

For the most part, Loki seemed content to lounge in his corner, staring up into the cameras. Sometimes Tony would look up, only to find that he was being _stared_ at by a pair of sharp green eyes, and he had to bite back his usual remarks (_see anything you like?_) because…well, he was sure that Fury was watching, somehow, and a part of him was still sure that Loki was only there for his own amusement. He was a god, after all.

But the hours rolled by, and nothing happened. Pepper came to check on them, and then Steve; both seemed surprised to find Tony alive and well, and still in possession of all his internal organs. The guards changed and changed again, and still Loki sat and stared, idly allowing wisps of light to weave between his fingers, saying nothing.

Of course, it couldn't last.

It had been almost five hours, and Tony was just beginning to test a freshly-built spectrometer - …_damn, if I could just figure out what kind of spectrum I'm dealing with I could…_- when he looked up to see Loki's reflection grinning at him from a screen, eyes glinting. Tony spun round with a curse, breath coming short, reaching for something -_anything_ - to use as a weapon (_as if it would do any good_) - only to find himself facing an empty room. Loki was still sitting in his cell, wearing an expression of perfect innocence.

Tony dropped his hands to his sides with a muttered expletive, shot Loki a look that said _fuck you_, and went back to the monitor.

"So," he said - anything to break the silence. "Why are you here?"

Loki stretched, cat-like, tipping his head back to reveal a shockingly white throat.

"I think you might do better to ask your comrades _that_," he said. "I am your prisoner, am I not?"

Tony turned to him. "No, don't give me that. You could break out of here in five minutes flat if you wanted to, we both know it, but you're just…sitting there. Why?"

"Trying to give me ideas?"

"Just curious."

Loki simply smirked.

"Maybe," he said delicately "I am plotting to kill you all in your sleep. Maybe I am gathering information. Maybe I am simply _bored_."

Tony met his gaze for a moment, before turning abruptly away. "And maybe you just wanna freak Fury out." Loki snickered at that. Tony went on. "Either way, looks like we're working together, and, hey, workmates should know the worst about each other, right? You oughta know, I'm very disorganised, never clean up after myself, periodically set the place on fire, you know, _minor_ faults, my charm makes up for it. And to be fair, you're a megalomaniac with daddy issues _and_ you threw me out of a window, so I'd say it balances out, right?"

Loki opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment JARVIS interrupted.

"Director Fury has an urgent message for you, sir."

They were being watched, then.

"Go ahead."

"He says that if you continue to fraternise with the prisoner, he will use your intestines to asphyxiate you. Sir." JARVIS said pleasantly.

Tony pulled a face, and went back to work.

* * *

I'm planning to update this every two days or so, if you're interested. Thanks for reading ^^


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you all so much for the reviews/faves/etc.! I find all the attention a little intimidating.

Also, a note on the cats - I'm almost certain that Loki is inextricably linked to cats in my head because of a fanfic called Nine Lives, by Maverikloki (I tried to link to it and failed miserably. I have ALL the computer skills, obviously). I wrote this whole fic in a very short space of time, and actually, rereading it, I kind of feel bad about how much it has been influenced by the fics I was reading as I wrote it. Whenever I feel like I've been influenced by someone else's fanfiction, I'll post a link to it, just because otherwise I will feel like a huge plagiarist.

(If you haven't already, you really, really should read Nine Lives, though. Out of all the Frostiron fics I've read, that one's my favourite :3)

* * *

"Right. I'm, uh, I'm gonna need a sample of your magic. A demonstration. Nothing dangerous. No…no…_mutating_, or teleporting or…" Tony trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

He was asking for it. He knew that. He was well aware that, on the spectrum of _really bad ideas_, actually asking Loki to demonstrate his…skills lay somewhere between "stupid" and "suicidal", and actually, Tony was half-expecting to receive nothing more than a messy death. But…he _had_ to. Even though Loki himself was giving off _something_, little ripples of energy, strange fluctuations, Tony needed something more. And hell, if he died trying to figure out exactly how Loki does what he does, well…it almost seems worth it.

Loki simply tipped his head back again, giving Tony an appraising look, and for some reason, he felt as if he had passed some kind of test.

"A risky request, Stark. Not one that has come from your director, I assume?"

Tony huffed out a laugh. "Nah, Fury'd have me decapitated if he knew."

"So I could do anything to you."

"Just - something small, something superficial." There was a hint of panic in Tony's voice, and judging by the way Loki was smirking, he had picked up on it. "Nothing major, just - uh - a party trick, do Norse gods do party tricks? C'mon, what do you say?"

Loki paused for a moment, considering. Then - "Alright."

Tony felt a heady rush, half excitement, half adrenaline, because he hadn't expected Loki to say yes, not at all. A part of him still thought that their prisoner was playing them somehow, but if Loki had an ulterior motive for staying put and playing along, he didn't know what it was.

"Alright," he said, leaping to his feet. The scans were already calibrated, so all he had to do was press a couple of buttons. "You ready?"

Loki nodded.

Blood singing, heart pounding, because _hey, he could turn me inside out or give me tentacles_, Tony tapped a few keys. Ready. Okay. Right.

"Go."

Loki gave a lazy wave of his fingers, and the monitors went wild. There was a sharp spike in several different kinds of energy, followed by a general increase in _something_, and Tony felt a rush throughout his entire body-

_Wait_.

Tony backed away from the monitors a little, smoothing his hands over his chest, pausing over the arc reactor, _checking_.

_Well, at least he hasn't turned me into a squid, _he thought.

He rounded on Loki, who was wearing a gleeful grin.

"What did you do?"

Loki just shook his head, grin widening.

"Tony! What the _hell-_" Clint's voice came in over one of the communications systems, and Tony could hear cries of alarm and a strange _rumbling _noise, like faint thunder-

Tony turned to Loki again, opening his mouth, only to find six sets of glittering green eyes staring back at him.

_Cats,_ he thought, stupidly, because, really, whatever he'd been expecting, it hadn't been-

The coms came to life again.

"Stark, if you would kindly explain where all these goddamn _cats_ have come from-"

"…JARVIS…?" Tony said tentatively.

"Sir."

"…what's going on?"

"There are currently one thousand, four hundred and seventeen cats of varying breeds occupying the facility, sir," JARVIS' tone was tired, as if this was somehow obvious, something that Tony should've known already.

"You _did_ ask for a demonstration," Loki said blithely. Tony turned back to one of the computers, only to find three tabby cats napping on the keyboard.

o

"This isn't funny, Tony!" Steve said, in his best soldier-voice. "How could you be so damn irresponsible?"

An hour had passed, and the situation was dire. Loki was sitting in his corner with five black cats, looking remarkably unconcerned. Tony, however, was…well, he had carried out what he liked to call a strategic withdrawal and was, as Fury put it, _hiding in his lab like a princess in a fucking castle_. In the past hour, he had been sworn at (extensively) by both Fury (via a video link) and Clint; half-strangled by Pepper; glared at by Bruce; and now? Now he was being lectured by Steve. Which was actually less intimidating than it should have been. Mostly because a small white kitten had managed to attach itself to the super-soldier's thigh, and was now perched there, staring up at him with wide blue eyes.

One thousand, four hundred and seventeen cats take up a lot of space.

"Anything could've happened here!"

The kitten yowled, as if in agreement, and Steve shot Loki the kind of glare that could melt iron.

"C'mon, Cap." Tony said. "They're only _cats_, it's not like-"

"That's not the point!"

The kitten mewled again, this time managing to match Steve's tone so closely that there could be no doubt about it - it was copying him. Tony suppressed a snigger.

Unfortunately, Steve noticed. His scowl deepened.

_Oh Christ,_ Tony thought. _Don't laugh. Do not laugh. No laughter here, no sir-_

"Do you think this is funny, Stark?"

Tony bit his tongue, and tried very hard to maintain a straight face. The kitten had gotten bored of clinging to Steve's leg, and was now making its way up his chest.

"Really, Captain," Loki said smoothly. "I don't see-"

Steve didn't allow him to finish. He rounded on Loki with a murderous expression on his face, and stalked towards his cell.

Unfortunately, he also promptly tripped over another (you guessed it) kitten, this time a scruffy tabby which hissed violently, then swelled to three times its natural size, and turned a somewhat alarming shade of lime green. This frightened the kitten so much that it leapt a good foot into the air with a wail, and latched onto the side of Steve's head.

And yeah, that did it. Suddenly Tony found himself doubled over, howling with laughter, just because it's _so ridiculous_, seeing Captain America - glory of the nation, the star-spangled soldier - scowling like hell, a white kitten stuck to the side of his head like a limpet -

Steve gave Tony a disdainful look, and somehow that only made things worse. Then, clearly deciding that Tony was a hopeless case, the soldier turned on his heel, and marched out of the room, followed by a neat line of white cats. Tony pressed his face against a worktop, and laughed until he couldn't breathe.

"That was good," he gasped. "That was good."

"I aim to please," Loki said wryly.

* * *

Oh, I also have a tumblr, if you want to come and say hi ^-^ I'm always willing to chat, particularly about a certain fabulous Asgardian...

.com/


	3. Chapter 3

Again, thank you all very much for the reviews :3 It makes my cruel black heart quiver with joy.

…and that was a really creepy thing to say. Apologies .

* * *

"He's got to go soon."

"I don't know, I think they're kinda cute."

Clint shot Tony a withering look, but didn't bother to reply.

Despite Pepper and Coulson's best efforts, Avengers HQ still contained a significantly higher number of cats than was necessarily helpful. Apparently, getting rid of more than a thousand of them was near-impossible, and thus far Loki had (unsurprisingly) refused to offer any advice.

Tony skirted round the edge of the kitchen, making for the toaster. He opened the bread bin, only to find three tabby cats inside, peering up at him owlishly. Slamming it closed again, he turned back to his teammates.

"Okay," he said, grudgingly. "Legolas there may have a point."

"I had hoped that, given time, my brother might see reason." This from Thor, who was standing at the edge of the room, giving Clint a suspicious look. Tony sighed internally. Thor had many good qualities, but the huge blind spot he had where his brother was concerned was not one of them.

"With all due respect, Thor," Steve butted in "wouldn't it be _easier_ to just take Loki back to Asgard? Surely you'd be better equipped to deal with him there than here?"

Thor looked uncomfortable at that, and for a moment made no response.

_Interesting_, Tony thought.

"I…would not take my brother home against his will," Thor said eventually. "Not now. It would go ill, and not just for him."

"You seemed perfectly willing before."

Thor inclined his head. "Yes. But…my father is prone to wrath, and I fear…" He broke off with a sigh, and made a frustrated gesture with one hand. "I know not. But I would have him remain here. For now."

"We've been getting good results," Bruce spoke up cautiously. "Useful results, the kind of information we can use."

"I'm gonna agree with anger management man there," Tony said, pointing to Bruce with a spoon. "The guy's a scientific treasure trove."

"Be wary, Tony Stark," Thor said grimly. "My brother has been quiet of late, but if bored, he can become…difficult."

Across the room, Clint reached up to open a cupboard, only for several kittens to fall out.

"I wonder what it's like when Loki decides to be difficult," Natasha deadpanned.

Over the week, Loki's cell - and the area around it - had become a makeshift laboratory, a jungle of wires and monitors and half-built machines. Tony strolled in to find Loki sitting in the centre of his cell floor, Tony's notes spread out around him. He was hunched over, biting his lip, rapt with concentration. His eyes skimmed back and forth, impossibly quickly, and his lips moved slightly, as if he were repeating the information to himself.

Tony watched him curiously. After a couple of days in captivity, Loki had apparently given up on his armour, and he now wore the kind of clothes that could have come from Asgard or Earth - black pants (and damn, were they skin-tight), a green shirt.

Loki delicately pushed a piece of paper aside with two fingers, and Tony wondered why he found his notes so _interesting_-

Suddenly, it struck him.

Loki was a sorcerer and a scholar. Thor had told Tony many times, fondly, and generally under the influence of some kind of alcohol, that back in Asgard Loki had often spent whole days poring over ancient texts, scouring the libraries for one spell or another. That he had preferred the company of books and scrolls to that of mighty warriors and - as Thor had put it, and man, the way the Cap had _cringed_ at his choice of words - "lusty wenches". That he valued knowledge more than gold.

That was it - Loki was curious. He liked knowing things, finding out how they worked. He liked _information_.

_Well,_ Tony thought wryly. _That makes two of us_. Strange, to have something in common with a Norse god.

He strode into the room, ducking under a bundle of wires, announcing his presence with a cough. Loki looked up disinterestedly.

"Should I be concerned," Tony said "that you've managed to get my notes into your locked, reinforced cell without any of your guards noticing?"

Loki smirked at him.

"Maybe you should be more selective with your employees," he said, running his fingertips over the pages of notes. Suddenly, he raised his arm and made a sharp, twisting gesture. The notes rose an inch into the air and disappeared with a soft _huff_, reappearing on one of Tony's worktops. The computers beeped uncertainly, picking up on the energy fluctuation.

For a moment, Tony simply stood by one of the computers, idly tapping at a couple of keys, examining the data readings. And then-

"Fascinating," Loki said. "The way your science and my magic combine."

Tony looked at him quizzically, and was rewarded with a rueful smile. It was a soft, slightly embarrassed expression, a world away from Loki's usual flashes of rage and manic grins.

"It's bizarre," Loki continued softly, absent-mindedly tapping at his collarbone with one hand. "Science and magic are so very similar, but the ways we measure and examine them are entirely unalike. Different ways of thinking."

"You think they're similar, then?" Tony said tentatively, because, hell, if he could just get Loki to _explain_, the things he could find out-

But then Loki straightened up and smirked, and when he next spoke his voice had regained its usual sharpness.

"Come now, Stark," he said, with a razor-sharp grin. "Where's your scientific curiosity? Work it out yourself."

Later that evening, Tony lounged back on his (incredibly expensive) sofa, a glass of (incredibly expensive) whiskey in his hand, and mulled it over.

It wasn't that surprising, not really. He had always known that Loki was _clever_. Trickster, right? It went with the goddamn territory. And he'd heard enough from Thor about Loki's spells, his tricks, his wit. So, the burning intellectual curiosity? Not that shocking. Still, it had been strange to see him crouched over those notes, fascinated, this…_creature_ that Tony associated more with fire and rage than with books and formulae.

He wondered idly what Loki did, locked up in that tiny ten by ten cell, day and night. He wondered what he would do, if their situations were reversed. He would find a way to entertain himself, he was sure of it.

Suddenly the urge to find out was almost overwhelming.

"JARVIS!" he said. "You up?"

"I am at your service, sir," the AI reminded him.

"Show me the CCTV from Loki's cell."

An image flickered to life in the centre of the room.

Loki wasn't sitting in his usual corner. Instead, he stood against the back wall of his cell, tension written into every muscle. Suddenly, he was every inch the _enemy_ again, all sharp edges and jagged lines. His mouth moved - he was talking to someone.

"Give me noise, JARVIS," Tony murmured.

"- back to where you belong."

It was Thor's voice, no doubt about it. The other god must have been standing on the other side of the glass, peering in. Tony wondered if he often came down to talk to the thing that had once been his brother.

In his cell, Loki sneered.

"Where I _belong_, Thor? Where I can be mocked and ignored. Where I can spend my days next to great, preening _imbeciles_ like Fandral and Volstagg, enduring your drunken jests and endless boasting - where I _belong_! Where I _belong_ is in Jotunheim, Niflheim, Hel, some _frozen _wasteland with other _monsters_ like _me_!"

Thor's voice was soft.

"Come home, brother."

"_Asgard is not my home!_" Loki spat, his eyes ablaze and his hands balled into fists. "And _you_ are not my _brother_!"

There was a long silence then, punctuated only by Loki's angry, ragged breathing.

"I will always consider you my brother, Loki," Thor said quietly. Tony heard faint footsteps, and the hiss of a door sliding open and then closing again.

Loki was left standing in his cell. His eyes were wide and wild, his teeth gritted and bared in a feral snarl. For a long moment after Thor had left, he stood perfectly still.

Then the life seemed to go out of him. His shoulders slumped, and for a moment he shut his eyes, as if trying to block out a bad memory. He leant back against the wall, and slid down into a sitting position. Then, slowly, he raised one arm, and trailed his fingers through the air. They left trails of green-gold light behind them, thin streaks that bloomed out into intricate patterns, vines, sprays of flowers. He flicked his fingers, and three tiny, crested birds flew from his hand.

For half an hour, Tony watched the chaos god in his basement trace beautiful things in the air. There seemed to be no purpose to it - it was almost as if Loki were playing a game. As if he were distracting himself.

Eventually, Loki stopped, let his arm fall, and pulled himself to his feet, his face perfectly blank. He padded over to the bed in the corner of the cell, curled into a ball on top of the covers, and seemed to fall asleep. Tony realised with a jolt that Loki looked _young_ like this - curled up into himself, his head resting on his arms.

"That's enough, JARVIS. Lights."

JARVIS obliged without a word, and the room slid into darkness.

The next day, the computers picked up a vast energy flux. It was enormous, affecting not only Tony's workroom or the whole of Avengers HQ, but-

_This can't be right_.

Tony set the parameters wider and wider, but the readings didn't change. Whatever it was was affecting the whole state, if not the whole country.

"What have you done?"

Loki looked up at him with a frown.

"This is not of my making."

Tony scowled at the monitors. After half an hour of activity, the energy disappeared. Neither of them could find an explanation.

* * *

And here we have the first hints of an actual plot o.O


	4. Chapter 4

Rereading this, I've realised that this isn't really a proper chapter - like, it's pretty short, and it doesn't have much of a bearing on the actual plot. I considered just deleting it (and if you want to skip it, do, nothing particularly significant happens. That's probably bad writing technique, isn't it, telling people to skip chapters XD) but I figured I'd post it and you can skip it if it's boring. I'm posting a proper chapter too, so by all means, skip ahead to that.

ooo

Tony Stark was not the easiest man to live with. No-one would have disputed that. He kept odd hours, regularly engaged in borderline illegal activities, set fire to things for fun and drank enough to knock out entire armies.

Steve Rogers, on the other hand, was neat, clean and painfully polite at all times. Most people would have described him as very easy to live with.

Tony Stark was not 'most people'.

It was the supermodels that did it. Three of them (and hell, that was impressive even for Tony, although his record was substantially higher), all _smoking _hot. Tony had never quite managed to get the hang of acting like a superhero rather than a celebrity, so, yeah, he still went to parties, he still got trashed and, yes, he _still slept around like the complete slut that he was_.

Tony liked sex. He wasn't ashamed of the fact that he did. And yes, an emotional connection and _love_ and _romance_ were lovely, but at the end of the day, people were willing. It was pleasure, pure (or not) and simple. He was a playboy, for Christ's sake - he slept around, and he damn well enjoyed it.

So, one party, three _very_ willing supermodels and rather a lot of alcohol. By all accounts, an enjoyable evening. No problems there, no sir.

No, the problems started when Steve Rogers came downstairs the next morning to see Tony Stark helping said models into their taxis, two of them only half-dressed.

"What exactly was that?"

Tony made a noise that was half exasperation and half amusement, and turned to find Steve glaring at him. It was eleven AM, far earlier than Tony liked to get up, and the whiskey he had drunk the night before was making itself felt in the most unpleasant ways, so he decided to go for facetiousness, in the hopes that Steve would _just drop it_ and let him go back to bed.

"_That_ was a British girl, a Swede and a Dane. And if all Nordic girls are as skilled as those two, then, damn, I'm jealous of Thor."

"You need to get a sense of shame. Or some self-respect."

Tony fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"I respect myself plenty. Just because you're Mr _Wholesome_ doesn't mean the rest of us can't have any fun."

"And that's your idea of fun."

"Well, yeah."

The look Steve gave him could have made a statue cringe.

"Your behaviour's disgusting. It makes us all look bad."

At that, Tony felt anger flare somewhere inside him. He'd always had a thick skin - hell, he took worse than that from journalists almost daily - but that was bullshit, and really-

"No, it doesn't. It doesn't even make _me_ look bad, the tabloids love it."

"Oh, and that's a reason to - to _screw around_ like that?"

"Mind your own damn business, Rogers," Tony threw the comment over his shoulder as he turned away. Hell, he was tired and he was hungover, and couldn't be damn well bothered to have this goddamn argument anyway.

But Steve apparently could, because Tony suddenly found himself being spun around and pinned against the wall, with six feet of artificially enhanced super-soldier scowling into his face.

"I don't believe in _using_ women like that," Steve growled.

Tony had had enough.

"Well, if you don't like what I do to women, I bet you'd just _die_ if you saw what I do to men," he replied flippantly.

It was a low blow, and Tony knew it. For the most part, Steve was coping well with being catapulted seventy-odd years into the future, but the culture shock was vast. Tony knew, from the occasional shocked glances and wide eyes and blushes that there were parts of the 21st century that Steve found shocking or disgusting despite himself. And the idea that men could fuck men? And not have something wrong with them? That had definitely been a shock to the system.

It didn't mean he was a raging bigot. It just meant he was human. And he knew that Steve hated it, being reminded at every turn how conservative he was in comparison to everyone else, how outdated his points of reference were. And whilst Tony's sex life was an open book - whilst every tabloid in town knew that he wasn't exactly _picky_ about little things like gender - throwing it in Steve's face like that? Yeah, definitely a low blow.

A faint blush began to creep across Steve's cheeks.

Bruce picked that moment to wander into the room.

Steve drew back sharply, assuming a carefully neutral expression.

And that was what tipped Tony over into outright anger, because he knew what Steve was about to say. It would be _let's finish this another time_ or _keep your voice down_ or _let's find somewhere else to talk_, and he knew that if those words came out of Steve's mouth, his answer would be one he'd come to regret.

He knew the others were wary of Bruce for a reason - hell, there were sections of Manhattan that were never going to recover from his last visit - but for fuck's sake, he was a grown man. He could _handle _himself. Apart from Pepper, he was the closest thing Tony had to a friend, and the way they all tiptoed around him like he had all the self-control of a five year old? Yeah, it was fucking enraging.

He shoved Steve's hands aside and stalked out of the room without another word.

ooo

"Might I deduce that you are in a less than radiant mood this morning?" was all that Loki said when Tony stormed into his workshop and kicked one of his computers into the wall.

"Steve Rogers is a dick," Tony replied without thinking.

Yeah, the argument had gotten to him more than he cared to admit.

"How so?" Behind the glass, Loki watched him steadily, eyes glittering.

_Damn. Exploiting the enemy's weaknesses and all that_.

Sometimes it was easier than it should have been to forget that Loki was, in fact, his enemy. He had been in his cell for a little more than a week now, and aside from the cat incident (which, to be fair, was still pretty fresh in everyone's minds, particularly since most of them were still finding kittens in their shoes) he had been relatively _quiet_. He responded to Thor with hissing rage, spiteful malice or icy silence, and to everyone else with nothing but sarcasm. None of them had been able to get any useful information out of him.

"You're a supervillain, not my therapist," Tony said.

"I have a…meeting with your dear Captain later today. If he's going to be less reasonable than usual, I would appreciate the forewarning," Loki said smoothly.

"You always do your best to drive him insane anyway,"

"True."

Loki punctuated his last comment with an absolutely devilish smirk. For a moment they sat in silence. Tony mentally went over Steve's words, and found that they still made something hot and unpleasant flare in the pit of his stomach.

Then Loki spoke again.

"Come now, Stark. What can Rogers have done to enrage you so?"

Suddenly, Tony felt tired.

"He thinks I'm a _bad person_," he heard himself say. "No-one else gives a shit who I fuck or how much I drink, but him? He finds it _distasteful_. And then he feels like shit for finding it distasteful. And don't get me wrong, usually I don't give a fuck, you know? But he's a hero, this big damn golden hero, and I'm, uh. Well." With a jolt, Tony realised who he was talking to and shut his mouth with a snap. _That one's gonna come back to bite me later, then_.

But behind the glass, Loki was silent, and there was a strange expression on his face, as if he were thinking about something both foreign and familiar.

"I think the sentiment might be one I recognise," he said after a moment, with a wry smile, and Tony thought of Thor, great, golden Thor, and how different the two of them were-

_Yeah_, he thought. _Yeah, it might._

ooo

I feel like bits of this chapter need explaining, before people start flaming.

Okay. Basically, my personal headcanon is that Steve is incredibly open-minded - for the time period in which he was born. And the 1940s? Not exactly a bastion of liberal thinking. So when Steve sees Tony whoring himself out (and you just know Tony's a massive manwhore ;D), he finds it shocking despite himself. And then the fact that he finds it shocking makes him feel like hell, because it's just a reminder of how old and out of touch he is compared to all the others.

So, he's not a raging bigot - he just doesn't know how to respond when Tony rubs things like that in his face. If that makes sense.

Anyway. Next chapter should be up in ten minutes or so.

Don't butcher me *hides* Like I said, it's just my personal interpretation, and I'm actually pretty fond of Steve, I just think - well, the culture shock would be vast.


	5. Chapter 5

As promised, another. Enjoy :3

* * *

The next morning, Tony found the others gathered around his TV (well, _one of_ his many TVs). This in itself was odd, because whilst the Avengers were officially a team, in reality, they were more like pre-Union America - more of a loose conglomeration of independent states than an actual group.

_And I'm damn Rhode Island._ Tony thought, eying the group suspiciously. _Or Washington DC, maybe. _

So, yeah, it was odd to find them all in one room. It was even odder to find them all sitting -as they were now - silent and still, with no sniping between Widow and Barton, none of Thor's booming laughter, no scolding from Steve.

Yet there they were. From the moment he walked in, Tony could tell something was up. They were all standing round the TV - Clint and Natasha close together, impassive, Thor frowning with his arms folded over his chest, the Captain staring at the screen in outright shock and Banner sitting a little apart from the others, his face as blank as ever. With a sinking feeling, he made his way in.

"Great, an apocalypse. Must be Tuesday. What's the flavour of the day, then?"

"Earthquakes," Natasha said, without taking her eyes off the screen.

"All across the fucking country," Clint added.

Tony paused, information flickering through his head, lightning fast. _One large earthquake, smaller repercussions. Depends how many, when, where. No precedent, but not impossible_. _Several large earthquakes, however-_

"I take it we're talking the kind that defy the laws of physics?"

"Yeah," Bruce murmured from the corner.

"Huh," was all Tony said. He paced around the outside of the room, and when he got a glance at the TV, he saw that Bruce was right. There was no way that these earthquakes could be in any way natural. The science just didn't work. It wasn't physically possible.

"Banner," he said. "You pick up on that energy fluctuation the other day?"

Bruce looked up, shaking his head a little as he did so.

"I've been more looking at the theoretical and chemical sides of things," he said, letting his head drop again. Tony still couldn't quite decide if he found the man's steady reluctance to look people in the eye worrying, sad, or just goddamn annoying.

"What energy fluctuation?" That from Steve. Since his and Tony's argument, things had been…awkward between them, at best. It took Tony a moment to find a suitably helpful answer.

"Name says it all, really," he said with a shrug. "Picked up a huge energy flux, half an hour long, spread across the whole country, no obvious source. Started at about…uh, three PM, Sunday."

Steve started, and gestured at the TV.

"That's when these started. They're still going on, but they're dying down now."

"Might be coincidence," Natasha supplied.

"And you are sure it had nothing to do with my brother?"

Tony looked at Thor, shook his head.

"Nah, our chaos god in a jar was at a loss."

"He could have been lying,"

Tony shrugged at that. "Well, yeah. God of lies, I reckon it's kinda his _thing_. Thing is, I don't think he was. I'm getting pretty familiar with the energy his magic gives off, even if I can't quite figure out how to put that energy to good use, and this? This isn't his style. Too slow, for one thing. Too widespread, too constant."

"I don't like it."

Tony spread his arms. "What can I say, Cap? None of us like it."

Steve frowned, and for a moment Tony thought he might have managed to needle him into giving him a proper fight. But in the end the other man bit back whatever he wanted to say, and simply nodded.

"Well," he said, looking from Bruce to Tony and back again. "You two oughta look into the connections. We can't let this happen again."

"I'll take a look into it," Bruce said, going back to his notes. Steve turned to Tony, a question on his face.

"Oh, sure thing. I'm on it."

ooo

As Tony left the room, his mind was already running through theories - _portal, dimensional shift, secret base blowing up_ - but he knew he was onto a loser. There were just too many goddamn _variables_, too many possibilities, and it didn't matter how clever he was (and he was damn clever), until he had more information to work with, he wasn't going to find an answer. So his thoughts skipped around, from project to project, until they came back (as he'd known they would - Tony had many faults, but naiveté wasn't one of them) to what was really on his mind.

Loki.

Tony had never been one to _overanalyse _his feelings. He'd been around long enough to know that the human mind was subtle and damn complicated, and that if there was one thing people couldn't do, it was explain how people work. Okay, so he was a flippant, shallow bastard. He knew that. He knew he had deep-seated daddy issues and truly monumental problems with self-worth and, hey, probably a nice dose of PTSD, who knew, but at the end of the day _it didn't fucking matter_.

That was the conclusion he had come to, after all these years.

It didn't matter. At all. And hell, you could have all the therapy you wanted, watch all the TV programs, read all the goddamn self-help books. You could meditate and turn to religion and talk and think until the fucking world ended. At the end of the day, you were either comfortable with yourself or you weren't No-one was ever going to be able to perfectly crystallise the way their own mind worked.

So, yeah. Tony didn't go in for over-analysis. He knew what he was good at; he knew what gave him pleasure. Beyond that, he went with the flow. He knew himself - that was enough.

But then there was Loki.

The one thing he couldn't quite figure out. The variable in the equation.

Here was the thing - Tony knew that, by all accounts, he should hate Loki. The guy had killed people - he'd levelled whole towns, he had the worst case of megalomania Tony'd ever seen (and hey, no-one was counting, but he had a fairly impressive case of that himself) and Tony was fairly sure that, given enough time, he could manipulate them all into killing themselves, or each other. And he'd damn well enjoy it.

But with him locked in a little glass box in the basement? He was kinda hard to hate.

And that was the key problem, wasn't it?

Tony didn't hate Loki.

In fact, if anything, he enjoyed his company.

He thought back again to the way Loki stole his notes - the way he'd been able to understand them. That wasn't nothing. That was like mastering an entirely new way of thinking in less than a week, and that was it, that was _why_ he liked having Loki around.

Being a genius was fucking lonely. And Tony knew how that sounded, reminiscent of the businessmen and supermodels he'd known who had complained about being too rich, too beautiful, but…there it was.

_Genius_. _Prodigy_.

It had meant having no friends as a child, because when everyone else was _dressing up_ as Captain America, he was trying to work out how to replicate his flight pattern, equations and all. It meant walking into a room and knowing that he was at least ten times cleverer than all the other occupants. It meant constantly dealing with people who were slower and dimmer and duller than he was, and it meant looking at people - people like Pepper, people like Rhodey, people who _mattered_ to him - and having to accept that they just couldn't damn well keep up.

That was partly why he kept Banner around, even though there was the odd chance that the guy might flip and turn into a huge green rage-monster. They spoke the same damn language.

And that was why he was finding it harder and harder to remember that Loki was a deranged, murderous demigod, and that keeping him behind glass was actually a good idea, rather than just _annoying, _because he had to read out the damn computer displays.

Tony huffed out a sigh, and stalked out of the kitchen, snatching some beer from the fridge as he went.

It was only when he got down to the basement that he realised he'd picked up two bottles.

ooo

"Here,"

Loki looked up, eyebrows raised.

"Beer. Best human invention by far. C'mon, you're perfectly able to get my notes in and out of there, I'm sure you can manage a bottle of beer,"

"Stark," Loki said, his face perfectly blank. "What are you doing?"

Tony paced back, shrugged. "I'm fraternising with the enemy."

"I see."

"C'mon, we've been working together for over a week, and we haven't fatally injured each other. That practically makes us _boyfriends_ by my standards."

Loki snorted at that. "Your interpersonal skills must be positively stellar."

"Says the guy who tried to subjugate an entire planet."

Loki gave him a catlike grin.

"Ah, but I did it _charmingly_."

"Right. I see. So that's HR for supervillains. As long as you're _charming_…"

He trailed off, and for a moment they were both silent. Eventually, Loki moved closer to the glass that fronted his cell, pressing his fingertips to it.

"Why are you here, Stark?" he said softly, looking at nothing in particular.

"I…" Tony found he didn't have an answer. "Maybe I got bored of being surrounded by superheroes. Maybe I wanted some intelligent conversation."

Loki looked up sharply at that, something unidentifiable flashing across his face.

"I see," he said again.

With a sigh, Tony made his way over to the glass, and sat down, letting the back of his head rest against it. He was tired, he realised. Damn tired.

"So, you gonna take this, or not?"

Loki shifted, and then - hesitantly - turned and slid gracefully to the floor so that he was sitting cross-legged, his back resting against his side of the glass. He made a vague gesture, and one of the bottles of beer disappeared, only to reappear in his hand. Another flick of his fingers made the bottle top vanish, and he took a cautious sip.

"Hm," he said after a moment.

"Not exactly Asgardian ale, I'll give you that," Tony remarked.

"No," Loki said. "But I was never over-fond of ale. Thor and his friends were, ah…well, I'll leave it to your imagination."

"What are you doing here, Loki?" Tony said, suddenly. He twisted round, to find Loki examining him with a slight frown. He was as pale and as sharp as ever, and for one starling, vivid moment, Tony thought - _he looks like a god_. Never mind all Thor's noise and glory - gods should be strange, beautiful, silver things, ethereal and as sharp as broken glass-

Then Loki sighed, and ran one hand through his hair.

"I know not," he said, and his voice was low. "It is as I told you. Perhaps I am plotting to kill you all in some horrifically imaginative way. Perhaps it amuses me. Perhaps I am _tired_. Perhaps I am bored." He paused, took a gulp of beer, scowled. "Perhaps I would escape those who pursue me."

"You're being pursued?"

Loki gave him an appraising look. "Ah, so they are not with you. I did wonder." He made a vague gesture. "Some organisation or another. They have been following me at a distance for some time now. In truth, I had given them little thought."

Another pause. Then:

"What do you want, Stark? If my br- if _Thor_ has sent you to try and make peace-"

"He hasn't."

Loki nodded, as if confirming something with himself. "That is well. Neither you nor he would be successful."

There was something in the way he said that that caught Tony's attention, but he couldn't quite figure out why.

"Maybe I just came for company," he said eventually.

Loki raised his eyebrows.

"Maybe," he replied.


	6. Chapter 6

And another. Thank you for the reviews and such :3

* * *

The next morning, Tony woke early.

Needless to say, this wasn't exactly a common occurrence. Going without sleep, yeah, he could do that, but waking up early? Please, what was he, a mature and sensible adult?

But that particular morning, he woke with a start, a vague sense of unease clawing at his insides.

_Brilliant,_ he thought, giving the ceiling a malicious glare. _I love being awake before seven AM._

When it became apparent that no amount of staring at the ceiling was going to let him get back to sleep, Tony slid out of bed, pulled on some clothes, and made his way down to his lab.

Because, really, what could be better than a little advanced physics to wake you up in the morning?

His lab - his _proper_ lab, rather than the makeshift one he had set up by Loki's cell - was beginning to look positively forlorn, and it suddenly struck Tony that he hadn't spent more than twenty minutes in there for more than a week.

"Don't worry, I'll be back," he told one of the bots. The bot didn't reply.

Tony moved restlessly round the room for a little while, picking up old projects, looking through blueprints, sorting through some of the junk he had lying around. It was when he was absent-mindedly running his hands over the surface of one of his desks that he found it - a tiny clump of metal, perched on the edge.

With a frown, he knelt to look at it.

It was a bug.

There was really no other way to describe it. It was inelegant, a bundle of sharp edges and roughly bound wires, clearly built by someone who was more concerned with function than with form, but its purpose was very clear.

Tony used a screwdriver to prise it from the wood, and set about examining it more closely.

Camera, memory chips, battery, scanners - whoever had built it had really gone to town. Tony took it apart and examined each and every component, but the parts were generic - there was nothing that could be used to identify the maker.

Eventually, he pushed the pieces aside with a sigh.

"JARVIS?" he called to the room at large.

"Yes, sir?" JARVIS replied.

"Where did this come from?"

A long pause. Then - "I have no record, sir."

_Not good._

Tony remembered what Loki had said about being followed, and for a moment felt a sick, creeping sense of dread.

ooo

He found Loki more or less where he'd left him the night before, leaning back against the glass wall of his cell, and for a moment Tony didn't know what to say.

But hey, he was Tony Stark, and tact had never really been his thing.

"Morning, sunshine!"

Loki twisted to favour him with a particularly vicious glare.

"Or not."

He padded over to a computer, brought up the data charts he had been working on. For a moment, the only noise in the room was the gentle hum of the computers and the tapping of keys. Eventually, it was JARVIS who broke the silence.

"Sir," he said. "A visitor is approaching the basement."

"Oh, really?" Tony said, puzzled. "Who?"

"One Thor Odinson, sir. He comes to speak with your prisoner with some regularity."

"Uh-huh," Tony said. He glanced back at Loki, expecting some response, but Loki simply let his head fall back against the glass with a _thud_.

"So he, uh, he comes to visit you often?"

"Increasingly so," Loki said wryly. He pushed one hand through his hair with a sigh and drew his knees up to his chest, and suddenly he looked so goddamn _tired_ that Tony couldn't help it.

"Why don't you just talk to him?" he blurted out.

"I _do_ talk to him," Loki replied testily, and Tony knew that the ice he was treading on was whisper-thin.

"No, you don't," he said, and the words poured out in a rush, tripping over themselves. "That's not your style. You snap and snark and generally play the diva, but talk to him honestly? That's not your thing. I mean, have you ever tried just, just telling him what you want?"

"I doubt Thor can give me what I want," Loki said, and his voice was almost inaudible.

Footsteps rang out on the basement stairs, and Loki shifted, steeling himself.

"I would not have an audience, Stark," he said, without turning to meet Tony's gaze.

Tony nodded, then realised that Loki wasn't looking at him. Eventually, he simply cleared his throat, and left the room, brushing past Thor on the stairs.

ooo

Later that day, there was what the others liked to call an "incident". Thor, Steve, Clint and Natasha headed out, whilst Tony and Bruce were given strict orders to stay put ("Because we don't want any more damage than is necessary," Steve had said, giving Bruce a meaningful glance). In the end, the four of them had managed to bring down their troublemakers - three vast creatures that looked worryingly like mutated elks - with relatively few casualties. When Clint suggested that they take the night off to celebrate, Steve, surprisingly, agreed.

The only problem was, Tony didn't _feel_ like celebrating.

Part of it was that it wasn't his fight. He found it hard to feel enthusiastic about a battle he hadn't been part of, no matter how skilled Thor was when it came to telling stories.

But even apart from that, by the time the others had found his biggest TV and most impressive sound system and even - to Steve's never-ending disapproval - his best vodka, Tony just felt…tired. He didn't feel like watching Clint and Natasha get progressively more drunk and more frightening (_and holy shit, those two can really tell a few horror stories_). He didn't feel like listening to Thor's jests, or…or any of it, really.

_Well, stop the clocks,_ he thought idly. _Tony Stark doesn't feel like partying. Must be a special occasion_.

As the evening wore on, the feeling only intensified.

So Tony did what he increasingly found himself doing when he needed to get away from the others.

He snuck away from the party, and crept down to the basement.

ooo

The basement was strewn with half-built machines and pieces of metal. Tony picked his way through the mess. His breath was coming short, his mouth was dry, and his thoughts were an incessant, repetitive chant - _oh god what am I doing oh god _- and -

_Just don't think about it._

The idea had occurred to him on the way down, and he _knew _it was unwise, hell, he knew it might get him killed, but-

_Fuck, what am I doing?_

Loki had barely looked up when he had entered, but when Tony began to fiddle with the control pad next to the cell door, he shifted closer, staring at him.

"Stark," he said, eventually. "What are you-"

"Hurry up, before I change my mind." Tony said, as the door to the cell slid open.

For a moment, Loki just gaped at him. Then:

"This is rash, even by your standards."

"I'm not breaking you out," Tony said, lunging forward and grabbing Loki's hand. The god flinched back, actually _flinched_, but Tony had already managed to fix a small loop of metal around his wrist.

"What is this?" Loki said, raising his arm.

"It's, uh, it's like a handcuff," Tony said, fixing an identical bracelet around his own wrist. He raised his arm, mirroring Loki. "If you get more than ten feet away from this, that-" he pointed at Loki's bracelet "-will send ten thousand volts through you. So, stick close."

There was a pause as Loki examined the thin band of metal. He would have had no trouble getting out of it, both he and Tony knew that. The idea that Tony was in any way controlling him, even with the handcuffs, was a pretence, and a flimsy one at that. For a moment, there was silence, and Tony wondered if he'd made a miscalculation, if Loki was bored of playing along, if he would just tear it off and-

"I suppose I am in your power then," Loki said blithely, lowering his arm. Tony felt a flash of relief.

"I want you to explain something to me," he said. "We're gonna need to go up to the roof, though."

Loki inclined his head. "One moment," he said. He turned back to his cell and made a sharp, complicated hand gesture. A second Loki flickered to life inside the cell, and lounged back in Loki's customary spot in the corner. The original turned back to Tony.

"Shall we?"

Tony nodded, mouth dry. He'd forgotten just how _imposing_ Loki was. Hard to be imposing when you're locked in a damn cell, but standing there in the half light-

He turned towards the door before he could change his mind.

"C'mon."

They crept through half-lit corridors, listening for signs of life (although at this time of night, this part of the building was almost empty. The guards outside the workroom had been easy to get rid of - Tony could be very convincing, when he tried.)

"Tell me," Loki said, padding near-silently behind him. "Do your _co-workers_ know what you're doing? Surely there must be security measures in place-"

"Oh, there are," Tony said. "I was the one who designed them. And no, the others don't know what I'm doing, and no, that doesn't mean you can try anything. Just - just follow me. And keep quiet, the last thing I need is for Steve to find out about this."

They climbed the rest of the way in silence.

ooo

Saying that the view from the roof of Stark Tower was _impressive_ was like saying that Tony Stark was _well-off_ - a vast understatement. New York lay spread out below them, a huge spiderweb of light, an abyss of colour and sound. Here and there, skyscrapers glinted in the darkness, and if you turned just so, you could see the pooling shadows of Central Park.

Tony knew all this. He came up to the roof often, much to Pepper's dismay.

When the two of them reached the roof, having scrambled up however many ladders and picked a few locks (because, hey, there were thousands of doors in Stark Tower - Tony couldn't be expected to remember where all the keys were, could he?), Loki padded over to the edge and peered down, looking for all the world like a curious cat.

"Your species has many faults," he said, after a moment. "But you certainly have a talent for…growth. Even Asgardians cannot master their environment so."

"Well, I'd be willing to bet Asgard doesn't have problems with global warming like we do," Tony muttered. There was a small strongbox bolted down to the floor next to the trapdoor they'd just climbed through. Tony wasn't sure exactly why he'd decided to put a strongbox there, or what it was meant to be for, but he knew what it contained.

The lock clicked open. With a grin, Tony reached into the strongbox, and drew out several glass bottles.

_Gin_, he thought. _Hm. Not bad._

"C'mere," he said. Loki looked up sharply, bristling at his tone of voice, but Tony just sat down, his back to the strongbox, and patted the ground next to him. After a moment, Loki relented and came to join him.

"Here," Tony said, passing him one of the bottles. Loki took it, turning it to and fro between his long fingers.

"Another drink? You people have found so many ways to intoxicate yourselves."

"Yeah, well," said Tony, twisting the lid off another bottle. "You think this is bad, you should try cocaine."

"I have."

That threw him a little. "Really? Uh, actually, that kinda explains a lot-"

Loki waved one hand dismissively. "Your drugs have little effect on me." As if to emphasise his point, he took a sip - and then a gulp - of gin. "What did you want to know?"

Sitting there in the semi-darkness, his face lit only by the lights of the city below, Loki looked more ethereal than ever, all sharp cheekbones, pale skin and glittering green eyes. It took Tony a moment to remember what he'd meant to ask.

"Yggdrasil," he said. Loki raised his eyebrows. "Uh, this is gonna be hard to explain. The human model of the universe is based on science, right? Whilst the Asgardian model is based on magic, the kind of magic that you use. And whilst magic and science might not be the same, some of the basic principles are similar, and I was wondering-"

"Whether there might be any further comparisons to be drawn," Loki finished. He gestured to the sky above them. "Between our ideas about Yggdrasil, and yours about astronomy."

"Yeah," Tony said. "Yeah, that's it."

Loki tilted his head back, considering. It wasn't exactly the best spot for stargazing - there's nowhere like New York for light pollution, after all - but here and there the odd glimmer of light could be seen through the gloom.

"So," Tony said. "Tell me about Yggdrasil."

And Loki did.

ooo

At first, he spoke haltingly, awkwardly, as if he were unsure of what he was saying. But after a while, his words began to flow more naturally, and Tony found himself listening as Loki explained an entirely unfamiliar system of thinking.

He spoke about Asgard, Alfheim, Hel - strange places with strange names. He spoke about Yggdrasil and the Bifrost, about the research that was conducted in tiny towns in New Mexico, about links to wormholes and vortices and black holes. It was bizarre, a strange mix of ancient myths and advanced science. And for all Loki's faults, he could really _talk_. _Silvertongue, indeed_. His words were a web in the air, tiny shimmering threads linking this branch of sorcery to that element of astrophysics, little leaps of logic that would have escaped most people. And yeah, it was beautiful.

Tony tilted his head back, staring up at the sky, and wondered if there really were other worlds up there. Impossibly distant, separated from Earth by vast amounts of _nothing_, the emptiness of space.

_Of course there are_, he thought. _You're sitting next to one of their gods._

After a time - and Tony could never quite figure out exactly how long they sat up there that night - Loki's voice trailed off. They sat in silence for a little while. Both bottles of gin were more than half-empty, and Tony was aware that he was drunk enough to make being on the roof of a skyscraper unwise at best.

"So," he said. "Why Earth?"

Loki, who had been staring into the middle distance, gave him a questioning look.

"If you were looking for a planet to take over, why _here_?" Tony said. His voice was surprisingly steady, so he took another gulp of gin._ Let's see if we can fix that._ It burned on the way down.

"Why not?" Loki said bleakly, making a vague gesture. "Thor _liked_ it. So I came to sully it, because it was his. Is that not what _villains_ do?"

Tony made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. "What was wrong with Asgard? I mean, yeah, Thor gets to be king, but you were still a prince. S'gotta count for something, right?"

Loki snapped round to face him with a hiss, anger flaring in his eyes, and for a truly heart-stopping moment, Tony wondered if he was going to die.

Then all the life seemed to go out of him. Loki slumped back against the strongbox with a sigh, his eyes closed. When he next spoke, he simply sounded tired.

"Thor and I are…not brothers by blood, doubtless you know that, but…even before, even without…" He made a frustrated gesture, searching for words. "Asgard was not mine," he finished lamely. "A thousand thrones could not have made it mine. It is…it was such a _golden_ place, full of golden people, people like Thor, and then - then there I am. Everyone there is loud and bright, full of glory, everyone there _burns_. No surprise to find that I'm really made of _ice_."

He said the last word so viciously that Tony flinched.

"Ice?" he asked, softly.

Loki rounded on him, suddenly angry. "_Yes_, Stark, _ice!_ Because whilst your hells are full of fire, all the wastelands of my world are cold, bleak places, places like Niflheim, places like Hel, places meant for _monsters _like _me_! Because if you lust after glory, and gold, and _light_, as Thor and the rest of his miserable friends do, then what better place for monsters than surrounded by bleakness and _cold_?"

"Loki-" Tony said, but Loki wouldn't stop.

"It's easy for Thor to talk of _peace_ and _reconciliation -_ he really _is_ of Asgard, and he can share in all the _glory_ that goes with it, but me? He acts as though it's a _choice_, he doesn't realise that it's written into my blood, that I will always be _this-_"

"Loki, _stop_," Tony said, catching at Loki's wrists, and then his shoulders.

At that, Loki came to a sudden, shuddering halt. His breath was coming in ragged gasps, and his face was a mask of rage, his teeth gritted, his eyes wide and bright with what could have been tears. And if there was one thing Tony was absolutely _not _good at, _100% not recommended_, it was comforting chaos gods.

So he spoke.

"Listen, I - uh - okay, I'm not-"

He gulped, _thinking_.

_Christ, I'm not cut out for this. Talking down demigods with daddy issues, oh boy. _

"I don't know if there's anything I can say to, uh, to convince you, but. Uh. Wait." He snatched up a bottle, took an inadvisably large gulp of gin, swallowed, continued. "And I know none of my experiences are really gonna be comparable -"

"That much is true," Loki muttered miserably.

"Listen," Tony said, because, hell, he was surprised Loki hadn't killed him already, why not - "If you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly the…easiest guy to…be around. I mean, I don't exactly have any issue with it, I'm an obnoxious bastard, but." He ran a hand through his hair, then ploughed on before he could think any better of it. "People expect me to be a bastard. They expect me to be thoughtless and selfish and generally a bit of a jerk, and you know, that's _okay_, but it doesn't mean I have to live up to their expectations. I mean, half of the time, I want to anyway, but that's…that's not the point. The _point _is that I know what it's like to be the goddamn villain, and it doesn't fucking matter what people _expect_ you to do, because, hey, you can always _surprise_ them by turning around and engaging in pointless heroics, and they won't love you for it, but you can treasure the look of shock on their damn faces when you do…"

"You're very drunk, Stark," Loki said dryly.

Tony shrugged. "Yeah," he said, with a smirk. "Just wait until I get on to _daddy issues_, because, woah, the speeches I could give on _those-_"

"I'd really rather you didn't," Loki deadpanned. He glanced up at the sky once more, then rose smoothly to his feet, offering Tony his hand. "Come. I'd rather you didn't fall to your death. It's likely I'd be blamed for it."

"To be fair," Tony said, and yeah, he was slurring a bit by now. Gin gets to you quickly. "To be fair, last time I nearly feel to my death, it was _your_ fault."

Loki smirked at that. Tony reached up and grabbed his hand, using it to haul himself to his feet, and _damn_, he hadn't realised quite how drunk he was. The world tilted around him, and he clung to Loki's arm in a desperate attempt to stay upright.

"_Humans_," Loki hissed in exasperation, slinging one of Tony's arms around his shoulder. "You're all such _fools_."

"Yep," Tony mumbled. "But you love us for it."

Loki didn't dignify that with an answer, instead concentrating on shoving him towards the door.

ooo

The journey back to Tony's bedroom - and really, Tony didn't even want to think about how Loki knew where he slept - might euphemistically have been described as _interesting_. It involved a lot of stumbling on Tony's part, and a lot of muttered curses on Loki's.

Eventually, Loki managed to half-carry Tony to his bedroom and deposit him on the bed. Unfortunately, Tony, in turn, managed to seize Loki by the shoulders and drag him down too. The two of them ended up in a rather undignified heap, half on and half off the bed.

"You are a _moron_," Loki hissed. Tony just giggled.

Then, on a whim, he leaned over and planted a kiss on Loki's cheek. Loki went rigid, and for a moment Tony wondered idly if he was going to turn around and _slap_ him. Then the god simply yanked his arm out of Tony's grasp and straightened up, pushing his hair out of his face.

"Goodnight, Stark," he said flatly.

"G'night Loki."

Tony knew he was _forgetting_ something, probably something important, but at that moment it didn't seem particularly urgent. He slid into a drunken sleep.

* * *

...shit really hits the fan next chapter. In case you were wondering. Had to happen at some point.


	7. Chapter 7

Again, thank you all very much for the reviews.

With regards to the bracelets - c'mon, you really think Loki would have any trouble getting out of those?

Oh, also, a few people have told me that the links I posted to Nine Lives and my tumblr aren't working. Apologies, I apparently have all the technological ability of a slug. Nine Lives is here - www(.)fanfiction(.)net/s/7271169/1/Nine_Lives - and my tumblr is here - www(.)echowell(.)tumblr(.)com - just remove the brackets.

Anyway, enjoy.

* * *

And then everything went to hell.

The next morning, Tony awoke to the noise of a shrieking alarm, the one he had installed after their _last_ battle with Loki. The one which meant that something _incredibly fucking serious_ was going on.

He leapt out of bed with a curse, tripped over the covers, cursed again, and stumbled to his feet.

"JARVIS!" he shouted. "JARVIS, turn that alarm off!"

The alarm cut out abruptly.

"What's going on?" Tony asked. Truth be told, he didn't particularly _feel_ like dealing with an emergency right then. His mouth was dry, and his head was pounding and _oh god, I'm never drinking gin again-_

"Loki has escaped, sir," JARVIS replied, much as if he were commenting on a spell of particularly bad weather, or a mild economic downturn. "He and his brother are currently destroying the seventh floor."

Tony froze. A wave of utterly paralysing dread washed over him.

_Fuck._

What had he done last night? He'd gone drinking. Drinking with Loki. The fucking _chaos god_ they kept in the basement, what had he done? He'd taken him up to the roof for a little round of therapy. And then he'd gotten drunk, and then he'd _kissed_ him, and oh, he was going to pay for that at a later date, he knew he was, but that didn't really matter, because at the end of the day, he had let Loki out. He had unlocked his cell and let him out, and _fuck fuck fuck_, Fury was going to fucking fry him, but even that didn't matter when compared with one last all-encompassing cock-up:

_He had forgotten to put Loki back in his cell. _

Tony didn't think he had ever run so fast in his life. Within ten minutes, he was suited up, and speeding to the seventh floor.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

ooo

By the time he got there - by way of two windows and a (now slightly mangled) lift shaft - the fight was already in full swing. At least a third of the seventh floor was strewn with debris, and in several places the walls had been either knocked through or scorched away.

He found Loki and Thor at the far end of the building, and from the very first glance, Tony knew it was bad. It was _really _bad.

Both of them were bleeding - Thor from several gashes along his upper arms, and Loki from a split lip and a nasty-looking cut along his cheek. Thor was backed against one wall, Mjölnir in hand, whilst Loki faced him. He was wearing his Asgardian armour once more, right down to the horned helmet, and his face was distorted into a feral snarl.

"Loki, _stop this_," Thor was shouting. Loki responded by hurling a ball of energy at him. Thor jumped to one side, and the energy struck the wall where he had been, leaving it dented and smouldering.

"Brother!"

At that Tony winced, because, seriously, if there was one thing to make Loki any _angrier_ than he already was-

Sure enough, Loki's face twisted.

"I AM _NOT_ YOUR BROTHER!" he snarled, and this time, he lashed out so quickly, so violently, that Thor had no time to leap aside. The blast of energy caught him squarely in the chest, hurling him back, _through_ the wall, and outside.

Tony sped forwards, knowing that he could catch him before he hit the ground, if he could just-

The next energy blast knocked him sideways and sent him skidding across the floor. For a moment he could only lie there, completely winded, and watch as Loki approached.

The expression on his face was _frightening_. The corners of his mouth were wrenched upwards, all his teeth bared, and technically, theoretically, it should have been a smile, but it just…wasn't. It was an animal expression, full of rage and pain and blazing hatred.

"Stark," he spat. "I thought you'd show up."

There was something dangerous in his voice, something wild and sharp and downright _deranged_. Tony scrambled to his feet, using the suit to help him, and backed away. Loki stalked after him. His words were a constant, cruel hiss, the noise of water shifting beneath a tonne of ice.

"Did you _enjoy_ the _performance_ last night? Not my most spectacular work but you human beings, you're so very _gullible-_"

He punctuated his last word with a hex. Tony dodged, and retaliated with a repulsor blast, which Loki brushed aside.

"Pathetic," he spat. He drew nearer and nearer, forcing Tony back towards the wall. "You're contemptible. For all your talk about _hard-heartedness_ - and oh, you _do _like to think of yourself as a _solitary force_, don't you? You are as soft as the rest of them. A weak, grasping _fool, _a squalling child clutching at the first comfort it finds. So _easy_ to manipulate. Did you think I was reaching out for help? Did you think we could form an alliance, a _friendship? Does_ it _enrage _you, to know you've been played so?"

The thing was, he was right. Maybe he hadn't quite reached _rage_ yet, but Loki's words were kindling _something_ in Tony's chest, something white-hot and snarling. And he knew that this was what Loki did best - mind games, manipulation - but -

Loki was so close now, pressing Tony back against the wall, pinning his arms, his fingers forcing the metal out of shape-

"I am going to tear your friends apart, Stark. I'll start with the ones you value least. I will slaughter them ingloriously, like the _cattle_ they are. I will tie that _woman_ of yours down with her own entrails and cut out her eyes whilst you watch. I will take Banner and drive him into a rage, watch him tear apart whole cities before I lock him in a room with a loaded gun. How long do you think it would be before he gave in? And then _you_."

Loki's hand was at his throat, something sharp pressing in between the joins of the suit, and his eyes were wide and burning and terrible.

But then there were shouts, the noise of someone shoving their way through the wreckage, breaking in-

An unhinged grin split Loki's face in two.

"Catch me if you can, Stark," he sneered.

And then he disappeared.

Tony was left standing in the wreckage, _seething_. And if Loki had meant to make him angry, he had _fucking_ well succeeded, because he was _furious_.

"JARVIS," Tony said, when he thought he could speak. His voice shook. "Track him down. Use the energy readings in file two-six-one-delta. Give me co-ordinates."

"Agents Barton and Romanov are on their way, sir-"

"I don't _care_," Tony gritted out. "Co-ordinates. Now."

The coordinates flickered up on the inside of his helmet, and Tony felt something vicious flare in his chest. He leapt into the air, and hurled himself out through the hole Thor had left in the wall.

_I'm going to kill him,_ was all he could think.

_That son of a bitch, I'm going to kill him._

ooo

He found Loki in an abandoned apartment block a few miles away. He was waiting by the window, his expression somewhere between _vicious grin_ and _deranged howl_, and when Tony hurled him across the room, he _laughed_.

"Couldn't resist, could you, Stark?" he gasped from the floor. "It is as I said. You're so _easy_ to _control_." Loki managed to get his feet under him and roll into a crouch. Tony sent a repulsor blast his way, but he jerked to one side, and it sailed past him. "Did you think it was _romance, _then? How sweet. How _sentimental_. You are a howling child, nothing more, always seeking approval when the only one who could _satisfy_ you is long gone."

And really, Tony couldn't let that go by without a response, and Loki might be the master of lies, but his own tongue was pretty sharp too, and he knew it. He pushed his visor up, knowing it was a bad idea and just _not caring_.

"Oh, _I'm _the one with daddy issues? Let's have a reality check here. You nearly blew up an entire planet just to get a _scrap_ of approval from your father - who is, of course, not your _real _father, and who didn't give a _shit_ anyway - and you're still telling me _I'm _a howling child?"

Loki gave a wordless snarl, and flung something gold and glowing towards him. It knocked Tony backwards, but he kept going.

"Let's not talk about me," he gasped. "You're the one who's always - gonna be in the shadows. You'll never compare to Thor, and this? This is why."

And at that, Loki just _snapped_. He leapt on Tony with a howl of rage, and spun him round, hurling him into a wall hard enough to leave cracks. Tony didn't even have time to get to his feet - Loki was on him, landing blow after blow, punching through the suit, snapping wires and tearing metal. He wrenched his arm back, then took his head in a vice like grip and _twisted_ it to the side. Tony felt a sharp, lancing pain and a sudden rush of dizziness and all he could think was _I'm going to die, oh Christ, he's going to kill me, I'm going to die_ - but then Loki's hands were glowing, and he could feel the sick, crunching slide of bones _knitting themselves back together_ in his neck. And then Loki was dragging him to his feet, hurling him across the room-

"_Fight me_, damn you!"

Tony tried, he really did. But, Christ, he didn't think he'd ever fought anyone so _angry_. Loki was a blaze of spitting rage, and Tony just couldn't keep up. His helmet was torn off; his arm was yanked back sharply, and he thought he felt something in his shoulder _snap_, and he was being backed towards the wall, further, further, until Loki was there, pressing a knife to his throat.

But then, Loki was knocked off balance, and as Tony scrambled away, he saw that an arrow was protruding from his back.

"Hey, Stark," Clint said casually. "We figured you could use some back up."

"You got that right," Tony muttered.

ooo

It was one hell of a fight.

Tony had always thought of Loki as the kind of guy who worked best with an army behind him. He'd never thought of him as a brawler. But, damn, he could be _vicious_.

Even with an arrow in his back, he managed to practically gut Steve with one of his throwing knives. Natasha rushed forwards, and he picked her up and quite literally threw her away. Tony got in a few good shots, but the suit was ripped to shreds and losing power fast, and Loki _just wouldn't stop_. He ducked and dodged and lashed out, with spells, with knives, with his fists, his face a rictus grin. Another one of Barton's arrows got him, this time in the shoulder, but he kept going.

When Thor appeared (having apparently survived his fall from Stark Tower), Loki froze for a moment, then leapt towards him with a shriek.

Barton's next arrow caught him through the throat.

ooo

They dragged Loki back to the Tower in chains. His old cell had been torn apart from the inside - and Tony couldn't help but wonder whether he'd just done it for show, whether he'd actually bothered to go back to his cell, why he'd done it, any of it - so they shut him in the _secure cells_, the cells built from reinforced concrete and steel bars, the kind of cells that (and no-one was willing to say it, not openly) they would hope to hold Bruce in, if he ever really lost control.

Thor had assured them that Loki's injuries weren't fatal (_"We Asgardians can be slain,_" he had said "_but it would take far more than this_."). Tony had to admit, he didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

He knew he was missing something. Loki had sat still, had caused no damage, had _worked _with him for weeks on end. As far as he could see, there had been no ulterior motive. He was missing something. Something key.

Unfortunately, he was also too angry to care.

So they dragged Loki back to the Tower. Thor removed the arrows and bandaged him up - _I will not see my brother left to die like a dog_ - and they left him in the most secure cell they had. The team split up to tend to their injuries, under strict orders to return for a meeting in the morning.

"We need to decide what to do with him," Steve had said grimly, blood trickling between his fingers, his hand clamped over one of the gashes left by Loki's knives. "Tony, you can't just keep him as a _pet_ this time, he's dangerous. More than dangerous."

"I know."

"I would not have him executed," Thor said.

"We'll see," Steve said, and his voice was grave.


	8. Chapter 8

Things you should know:

1. The second half of this chapter is a little NSFW.

2. I was as nervous as all hell about posting this chapter.

3. The reasons for this will become clear.

* * *

That night, none of them were in the mood to talk. They were injured, some of them badly so. They were tired. But most of all, they were _on edge_.

The Avengers didn't usually have to punish people. They fought off invading armies; they sent renegade aliens and sorcerers and god only knew what else back to wherever they came from, so they could be punished by their own people. They handed war criminals back to their governments. They handed terrorists over to the military. They kept the peace.

They certainly didn't carry out executions.

"We'll meet in the morning, and decide what to do with him," Steve had said. "None of us are in any state to talk right now, and he's not going anywhere."

So, Clint and Natasha had disappeared to whatever corner of the building they liked to lurk in. Bruce had retreated to his lab, escaping the tension. Steve was in one of the medical rooms, getting stitched back together. Thor sat by his brother's cell, watching. Waiting.

And Tony?

Tony did what he always did when he was in a vile mood.

He went to his lab, and he drank.

He was still angry. He knew that mind games were Loki's speciality - hell, the guy was a master manipulator - that letting him _get _to him so much was tantamount to letting him win, but the rage was still there, burning beneath his skin.

He shoved some of the equations he (_and Loki_, his mind supplied) had been working on aside with a scowl, and reached for a bottle. Any bottle, there were plenty of them around.

"Bastard," he muttered into it, before taking a huge gulp. Whatever it was - _whiskey?_ - burned his throat, making him cough, but he kept drinking.

Somewhere, distantly, Tony knew that part of the reason he was so angry was - well, he felt fucking _betrayed_.

_Betrayed by the god of lies,_ he thought dully. _How 'bout that?_

_You're a fool_, something in his head whispered in Loki's voice. _A stupid, gullible fool-_

Tony turned, and hurled the bottle into a wall. It shattered with a satisfying _crash_, and he felt a little better.

"Hardly constructive, sir," JARVIS murmured.

"Shut it, JARVIS. Not in the mood."

"I had deduced that, sir."

He'd worked with Loki. And yeah, maybe he was a fool, but there had been moments, odd little moments, where he'd thought he was…what? Getting through to him?

_Liesmith, _he thought, with an internal groan. _He was stringing me along. _

_You really are a fool._

His anger simmered inside him, waxing and waning but never entirely fading. The hours rolled by. Tony seethed, and drank, and seethed some more.

ooo

It might have been the drinking that had convinced him to do it. Even at the best of times, Tony wasn't exactly one for _self-restraint_. He did what he wanted to do, propriety and responsibility and personal safety be damned. Maybe that was something Loki could have sympathised with.

And when Tony was drunk (which was a fairly frequent occurrence, to the never-ending exasperation of the people around him), his lack of self-control became truly _stunning_. Maybe it was hard-wired into his DNA. If it were in any way possible, he was fairly sure that his base pairings would have spelled out _fuck it_. It was part of his damn personality. Self-restraint just _wasn't his damn thing_.

In any case, when Tony found himself still both awake and angry in the early hours of the morning, not quite drunk, but not quite sober - well, being responsible wasn't really his first priority.

"JARVIS, is the bastard in the basement conscious yet?"

"Barely, sir, although he appears to be healing more quickly than is humanly possible."

Tony snorted at that. "Might be 'cause he's _not_ h- JARVIS, is he alone?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wait, no guards?"

"Captain Rogers felt that they would pose an unnecessary risk."

Tony snorted again. Of course. Loki was too damn dangerous to be guarded. Safer to put an arrow through his neck and leave him alone.

"JARVIS, I'm going down to visit," he said abruptly, rising to his feet. "Warn me if anyone's gonna disturb us."

ooo

With hindsight, he couldn't say exactly what he went to Loki _for_. Maybe to talk. Maybe to shout at him. Maybe to hurt him (but _I'm not that kind of action hero, am I?_)

Whatever it was, Tony found himself striding into Loki's cell somewhere between two and three AM, his blood pounding in his ears. This cell was a strange affair, a mess of concrete and steel on the outside, relatively comfortable on the _inside_ (because although they'd never discussed it, they all knew who might end up locked in there), and Tony had to slide back the cover of a peephole to peer inside. No glass panels or ceiling-to-floor windows this time. No chance for Loki to talk someone into letting him out.

_He doesn't even need to talk,_ Tony thought savagely, punching an override into the keypad by the door, letting the scanners whirr across his fingertips, his irises. _I come to him all by myself_.

The door slid open. This time, Tony slammed it shut behind him, leaving it unlocked so he could still damn well escape. _If I need to_.

To be fair, the chances of Loki actually being able to damage him in any way were looking pretty damn slim. He was lying on the bed in the corner of his cell, curled into a ball, face pressed into the pillow, and, frankly, he looked like hell. He was topless, his armour lying in a heap by the side of the bed, and his chest and back were swathed in thick bandages. In places, blood was already seeping through. There were smudges of it on the sheets, drops of it on the floor. Even beneath the bandages, Tony could see bruises coming up across Loki's back and along his spine, burns, grazes, spreading red marks where the skin had simply been torn away.

Somehow, it only made Tony even angrier. Because, hey, this was the guy who had practically drawn and quartered his own brother, who had tossed Tony out of a damn window for shits and giggles, and what, he was meant to feel _sorry _for him?

With a muted snarl, he marched over to Loki and yanked him up off the bed, pinning him to the wall with one arm across his neck. Loki came awake with a sudden, violent jerk, and he made a wet, choking noise in the back of his throat. Tony noticed the bandages, remembered exactly where Hawkeye had got him, and let him fall to the ground.

For a moment, Loki lay in a heap, gasping for breath. There were cuts on his face, too, deep, livid gashes. After a little while, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, and Tony noticed - with a sick twist of _something_, some hideous combination of rage and vindication and pity and god only knew what else - that his arms were shaking. Loki let out a hollow, wheezing laugh, coughed, spat out a mouthful of blood.

"What are you here for, Stark?" he rasped. "Come to finish what you started?"

"I want to know what the hell you think you've been doing," Tony said. He was proud that his voice didn't shake.

Loki gave him a blank look. Then irritation spread across his face.

"Don't tell me you feel _betrayed,_" he snapped. "I am a liar, Stark. I am the _god_ of lies."

"I would never have fucking guessed," Tony muttered. He was still angry, so goddamn angry. He could feel rage pulsing through him, white hot, burning.

Loki gave him a feral grin, and slowly, stiffly, forced himself to his feet.

"I am _playing the villain_," he said. "That is what I am _for_, is it not?"

"Bullshit!" Tony exclaimed. "And you know it! Come _on_, you're supposed to be fucking _intelligent_, and that's the best you can come up with? You tried to slaughter us all because, what, _we didn't think highly enough of you_?"

"It matters not."

"No, you know what? You nearly broke my neck this morning. You don't get to _decide_ when we just drop the subject. I wanna know why you let us catch you, why you helped me with my goddamn research, why you didn't kill us all when you had the chance. Why you just…flipped out, today. I want to know what the _hell_ you're doing!"

Loki just looked at him, his mouth shut tightly. His eyes were shadowed.

"You could have slaughtered us all in our beds at the beginning. Why didn't you? What, you just wanted to - to play us along, for your own fucking entertainment?"

Loki still didn't reply.

Tony felt a sudden rush of frustration. He took hold of Loki's shoulders and slammed him back against the wall.

"_Tell me!_" he shouted.

For a moment, the only noise was the two of them gasping for breath. They were standing so close together that Tony could see - even beneath the bruises - marks on Loki's face, old, scattered, probably from injuries he had picked up as a child. A series of small, pale scars were dotted around his mouth, barely visible.

"Do you even know why you're doing this? Any of it?" Tony said. A strange expression flashed across Loki's face.

Tony suddenly realised that his hands were clenched around Loki's upper arms, that he had him pressed back against the wall - that he was probably hurting him. He started back with a mumbled apology - because whatever he was, he wasn't a bully, he had never _wanted _to be a bully - but Loki's hands were clutching at his shoulders, holding him there. There was something absolutely desperate in his eyes.

"Stark-" he began, but either he didn't know what he wanted to say, or he _did_ know but couldn't say it, because that was as far as he got. He closed his mouth with a snap.

The two of them were standing so very close together.

Tony knew - suddenly and vividly - what was going to happen next.

The muscles in Loki's throat moved as he swallowed. His eyes flickered up and down.

Then - just as Tony was about to spit out a question, an insult, a curse, anything to break the goddamn _silence_ - he pressed his lips together, as if coming to a decision, pulled Tony just a little closer, and kissed him.

It was a hard kiss, bruising. It sent a jolt through Tony, as if he'd touched a live wire. He found himself shoving Loki back against the wall, one hand fisting in his hair, kissing him back, and Loki arched into it, hissing. He could taste blood in his mouth. Then Loki twisted him round, reversing their positions, and began to bite at his jaw and his neck. His hands were making their way under the hem of Tony's t-shirt, creeping up his stomach, and he knew then that this was going to go further than it should, and he didn't care, because rage was still flaring white-hot in the pit of his stomach, and this - this was _perfect_.

He yanked Loki's head up and kissed him again. This time, Loki's tongue flickered into his mouth, and Tony made a noise in the back of his throat that was worryingly close to a whine. _Silvertongue_. _Right_.

Loki's hands were on his chest now, skirting around the arc reactor, and when Tony backed away to tug off his shirt, the god followed him, pushing his shirt over his head and shoving him back onto the bed. And Tony, Tony let his hands wander up Loki's spine, running over bruises and bandages and really, it didn't matter that he was in bed with a murderer, because this was a dance he knew well. He let his hands settle on Loki's hips. Loki was busy trailing his fingertips down Tony's chest, his nails digging in just so. He hooked one finger into the waistband of Tony's jeans and tugged them down a little way. Then, with a small noise of annoyance, he simply made them disappear, along with the remainders of his own clothes.

"Magic is - uh - cheating," Tony managed to gasp. Loki gave him a withering look.

"Be quiet, Stark."

Then he leant in, and began to bite his way down Tony's chest, using his tongue to soothe over the marks left by his nails. His fingers drifted lower and lower, and Tony suddenly found himself arching up against him, his hands fisting in the sheets, and his head was full of _pale skin and green eyes and long, long fingers and smirking lips and-_

Loki made a sharp gesture, and something appeared in one of his hands. He passed it to Tony.

"What-"

"Use your imagination," Loki gritted, and Christ, his _voice_.

Looking closer - and really, concentrating on _anything_ was difficult, with Loki kneeling above him like that, pressing against him - Tony realised that Loki had handed him a small, clear bottle, full of liquid. _So that's the way this is gonna go_, he thought.

By now, Loki's fingers were doing utterly obscene things to him, things that made him arch and gasp and see stars, and it was all Tony could do to push him away a little, so that he could return the favour.

When he pressed up into him, Loki arched against him with a moan, his legs tightening around Tony's waist. And then - and then they were shifting against each other, breathing in hisses and gasps, and Tony remembered tugging Loki down (or maybe Loki was tugging him up) until their lips met. Loki's nails were digging into his back, and he was pressing bruising kisses to his neck, his collarbones, covering every inch of pale skin, until it felt like he was _suffocating_, and he was quite, quite sure that his brain had simply short-circuited. Loki followed him with a short, cut-off cry, and then - finally - they were still.

For a while, they just lay there, panting. Eventually, Loki rolled off him soundlessly, and Tony was left staring at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck he had done. Loki had moved to the side of the bed and was sitting with his back to him, every muscle tensed.

After a long while, Loki sighed, and straightened up, pushing his hair out of his face with one hand. He glanced back over his shoulder, and with a jolt Tony saw that his eyes were wet. He pushed himself up on his elbows, opening his mouth, but he didn't have time to say anything - at that moment, Loki twisted his hand to one side, and Tony slid into unconsciousness.

ooo

Tony woke the next morning in his own bed, alone. He pushed himself into a sitting position with a groan. There wasn't a single fucking part of him that didn't ache.

"Wait."

The realisation hit him like a bucket of ice water.

"JARVIS?" he croaked. A now-familiar sensation of dread was crawling up his spine, because -

_What the fuck have I done?_

"Yes, sir?"

Tony swallowed his rising panic, and tried to formulate a coherent command.

"Where's Loki?" he managed, eventually.

"Locked in his cell, sir. The security footage from last night has, however, been tampered with. It is too distorted to be of any use."

Tony sank back against his pillows, wondering why he'd programmed his own goddamn AI to sound so _judgemental_. He didn't bother trying to figure out how Loki had managed to scramble the security footage, because - hell, it was Loki.

_Christ. What have I done?_

_Last night. _

_That was-_

_What the hell was that?_

When he eventually managed to convince himself to get up, he noticed that his clothes had been placed on the floor at the foot of his bed, neatly folded.

Tony couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done something terribly, terribly wrong.

* * *

...so, the frostiron becomes explicit . Uh. Basically, this is the first thing I've written that's even vaguely explicit, and gah, it was so awkward to write . I hope it's not too bad, I'm just obviously not great with the whole smut thing . Maybe I should practice more XD

This wasn't exactly cheerful, either, for which I apologise.

Anyway. The reasons for Loki's complete freakout will be explained, I promise, and the plot will pick up pretty soon too. So, yeah ^-^

Oh, I meant to say - I know I've said it before, but honestly, thank you so much for the reviews and faves and all that. I'm really glad you're enjoying it, and I'll do my best to continue to entertain you all :3

Also (final note, I promise), this fic is kind of short on fluff - if I were to write a slightly happier sequel, would anyone be interested in reading it?


	9. Chapter 9

"So, I…" Steve sighed, ran one hand through his hair. "Thank you all for coming, I guess."

The mood in the meeting room was grim. Natasha and Clint sat on one side of the table, both bruised and bandaged, whilst Coulson and Pepper sat on the other. Thor was standing with his back to the wall, arms folded over his chest. Tony had followed Bruce's example, and was sitting in silence in the corner of the room.

Even Steve, standing at the head of the table, looked tired.

Of course, normally Fury would have been the one to lead a meeting this serious, but their Director was apparently dealing with something more important. Coulson had rattled off something about radiation and interdimensional shifts in Washington State. No-one had been inclined to listen.

"Listen, guys, I…I know we like to be egalitarian, but I'm making an executive decision on this," Steve said. "We don't do executions. That's not what we're for. Now, I know we have to do _something_ about Loki, but whatever it is, we're not killing him in cold blood. Not on my watch."

The others remained silent. Clint shot Natasha a look; Coulson shifted awkwardly in his seat.

Tony just stared at the floor.

He didn't know what the fuck to think.

_I spent last night fucking a Norse god. _

_I spent last night fucking a known killer. _

He didn't even know why he'd done it. Hell, he knew he was a playboy, but _Loki_? Even the name filled him with a kind of sick confusion. _So, do I regret it, or-? Was it his fault or mine? Does he regret it? What the fuck does he think of me?_

_Would I do it again?_

Unbidden, his mind began to fill with images of lean muscles shifting under pale skin, of glittering green eyes and elegant fingers, twined about with strands of energy, and-

_Christ_. Tony blinked, hard, trying to clear his head.

"Thor," Steve was saying. Tony stared at him, trying to concentrate on the meeting and _only_ the meeting. _Before I dissolve into a damn puddle_. "Could you give us any suggestions? We have the technology, if it came to it, we could send Loki back to Asgard."

Thor shifted, his frown deepening. "I realise that my brother has wronged all of you," he said eventually, and his voice was quieter than Tony had ever heard it. "Deeply. And I am sorry for it. But I fear for him also." He paused, and seemed to weigh his next words carefully. "Our father is not naturally given to kindness. Unless Loki came to him as a supplicant, unless he begged his forgiveness, I fear that the punishment for this would be…severe."

"Well, how severe are we talking?" Clint said suddenly. "Because I kinda wanna tear his guts out."

Before Thor could respond to that, Bruce spoke up from the other corner of the room.

"I, uh, I know this isn't going to be a popular opinion," he said quietly. "I know he's hurt you all, I know we thought he was - less harmful, than he is, but, uh." He looked down, then up again. "Attacking us as a group isn't as bad as trying to take over an entire planet. It's more personal, yeah, but objectively, it's not…And I know we're all on high alert right now, but I helped Thor patch the guy up last night, and..."

"That true?" Steve asked Thor. The god nodded. Tony thought back, and realised that some of the gashes on Loki's back had been stitched, that someone must have given him bandages, cleaned out his wounds. But then his thoughts turned back to the new scratches he knew would be coming up across Loki's arms, the bruises he knew he'd left on his arms, his hips, and suddenly he felt a sick, guilty feeling rising in the pit of his stomach, because _Christ, I've fucked things up so much-_

When Bruce started talking again, Toy felt a sudden urge to buy the guy some flowers or something.

_Or maybe you should do that for Loki, _one of the more sarcastic parts of his brain supplied.

"The guy's a wreck," Bruce was saying. "I mean, he fixed the throat wound by himself, he woulda died if he hadn't, but…" He made a helpless gesture. "I can't believe he's still standing. Might even be that his magic's the only thing keeping him alive, I don't know. I don't think he could hurt us if he tried right now."

"Are you sure he's not faking it?" This from Coulson. When they turned to look at him, he shrugged. "You know, god of lies. He could be faking it. False sense of security."

Bruce shook his head. "I, uh, I don't think he could fake those kind of injuries."

There was a long silence then. Tony stared pointedly at the floor.

_Don't think about it. Don't think about him._

"Well," Steve said eventually, clearing his throat. "If that's the case, I think we should go down and pay him a visit. All of us. Just to talk."

Tony shut his eyes.

_Damn_.

ooo

So, they all trooped downstairs, and, at a nod from Steve, filed into Loki's cell. And if Tony lurked at the back, his mouth firmly closed, well, everyone else was too distracted to comment.

Loki was sitting on the edge of his bed, his face perfectly blank, and damn, if Tony had thought he looked bad the previous night, it was nothing to how he looked now. He hadn't bothered to get dressed properly, so he sat there bare-chested, and he had bled through his bandages in more than one place. Bruises had blossomed along one half of his face, and his bottom lip was slightly swollen. Tony caught sight of a series of raised scratches running over Loki's shoulder, and felt his mouth go dry.

_Fuck. Oh, you've fucking outdone yourself, Tony. Well done._

"Doctor Banner," Loki said eventually, without looking up. His voice was scratchy and quiet, but Bruce still stiffened. "I suppose I owe you my thanks."

"Damn right," Clint muttered. Steve cut him off with a sharp hand gesture.

"Loki?" he said. Loki slowly raised his head to look Steve in the eye. His face was an expressionless mask. "I…uh, I've gotta be honest, we don't entirely know what to do with you."

Normally, Loki would have leapt on a statement like that. Tony knew it. The others probably knew it too. He would've made Steve regret his damn honesty in thirty seconds flat. But no-one said a word.

"Do with me what you will," he replied eventually.

"Brother," Thor said, and Loki didn't flinch, didn't even blink at the epithet. "Would you not come back to Asgard? Not as a prisoner, but as a supplicant. If you showed the appropriate level of humility - even if you were not sincere - the Allfather would show you kindness, in time."

Something flitted across Loki's face. "The same breed of kindness that he showed Jormungand? And Narfi?" he asked. There was an aching, unutterable weariness in his voice, and Tony was shocked to see Thor recoil, as if Loki had lashed out. Before any of them could say anything, Loki slumped back on the bed, letting his fingers tangle in the blood-stained sheets.

"Do what you will," he said again. "It matters little to me."

After that, he would answer none of their questions, no matter how they were phrased.

* * *

Glad you enjoyed the last chapter - have some angst :3

As far as I remember, there is more interaction between Loki and Tony in the next chapter. I'll upload that for you tomorrow.

Oh, also, quite a few of you said you'd like a sequel - I'll see what I can do about writing that ^^


	10. Chapter 10

"So. Last night."

Loki didn't reply. He was dressed now, his bruises covered by a layer of linen and leather, and rather than lying on his bed, he was standing at the edge of his cell. When Tony had entered, he had looked up, met his gaze for a moment, and then looked away. Now he was standing with his arms folded across his chest, staring resolutely at the floor.

"I'm, uh. Sorry. I guess. I don't know," Tony went on. He wasn't used to this. He didn't even know what he _wanted_ to say. "I just-" He broke off with a frustrated gesture. The ghost of a smirk passed across Loki's face.

"What are you here for, Stark?" he said, and when he looked up, Tony was struck by how _green_ his eyes were.

"I don't know."

For a moment, the two of them were silent. Tony turned, paced a little way around the room, letting his fingers run over the wall. He noticed a smudge of blood on the concrete, and winced.

He heard a rustle, and when he turned, Loki was sitting on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees, watching him.

"The others don't know what to do with you," Tony said conversationally, looking away, because, _damn_, those eyes. "Bruce wants to keep you here. Fairly sure the hawk wants to have you executed."

Loki laughed to himself.

"They could try," he said bluntly. "Whether they would succeed is another matter entirely."

His tone was light, but there was something off about the way he spoke, something hollow, and after a moment the smile faded from his face.

"I know," he said, quietly, bitterly. "They will find a suitably imaginative way to punish me or imprison me, some cage or another, and rightly so. And then, given time, I will escape my chains, commit some atrocity, and the cycle will begin again."

"Or you could just…not." Tony said. Loki looked up sharply.

"And what?" he snapped. "Give up, spend the rest of my life _languishing_ in chains?"

"Yeah," Tony said, leaning back, jutting his chin out defiantly, as if to ward off the viciousness in Loki's voice. "Or you could just swallow your damn pride and _ask_."

"For what?" Loki said, and his tone was mocking. "Forgiveness? _Love_? I'm sure your coworkers will be most inclined to humour me. What is this, Stark? A reconciliation? An attempt at romance?"

"Yeah, 'cause last night was so damn _romantic_," Tony shot back. "No, regardless of…whatever the hell that _was_, you could just ask. Ask Rogers to let you stay here. Hell, ask Thor to take you back to Asgard. You're the best damn actor I've ever met, I'm sure you can convince them. You don't have to play the fucking villain, you know?" He paused. "Uh, although with Hawkeye it's really gonna take some convincing."

"And what, pray, should I ask for?" Loki said quietly.

Tony shrugged. "Whatever you want."

Loki made a helpless gesture, and Tony was suddenly struck by how goddamn _pointless_ this conversation was. Because what was Loki going to ask for, at the end of the day? What was _left_ for him? Not Asgard. Not Earth. He probably didn't have a damn clue what he wanted.

For a long time, Loki just stared at the floor.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted at last, very quietly.

Tony snorted, and went to sit next to him. Loki shifted away, refused to look at him.

"Hey," he said. "Hey, listen." Loki turned his head away, so Tony - ignoring the sarcastic voice in the back of his head that was howling with laughter at the sheer goddamn _melodrama _of it all, because _goddamn it, this is like some crappy romantic film, isn't it_ - reached out and cupped his face, forcing him to turn back and look at him. Even then, Loki wouldn't meet his gaze, but Tony went on regardless. "You don't have to know what you want. Hell, you could come back to the lab, spend a few weeks playing with equations with me and Banner. Just…buy yourself some goddamn time. At least then you get a say in what happens." He ran his eyes over Loki's face, trying to ignore how bizarre it was, the two of them, sitting here, looking for all the world like a goddamn _couple_- "And, uh, about last night," he went on (_Christ, this is awkward_). "I, uh, I don't know what that was, or, or what we were doing-"

"Oh, I think you were quite aware of what we were doing," Loki said dryly, and Tony snorted.

"Whatever it was, I, uh, I don't mind." Loki raised his eyebrows. "I mean, it's just - it doesn't have to be a _thing_. It doesn't have to, to change anything, or-"

"Your eloquence astounds me," Loki murmured. He looked up and met Tony's eyes, his expression open, innocent. "Don't you fear that my brother will be angry, if he finds out that you've _defiled_ me so?"

Tony gaped at him for a moment, because he was used to Loki unleashing armies and destroying cities, and the idea of him being a blushing innocent whose honour needed protecting was somewhere between bizarre and insane and-

At his confusion, Loki's face split into an absolutely wicked grin.

"Don't fret, Stark. I've done _far_ worse. As my brother could no doubt tell you."

_My brother. _That had been a slip of the tongue, and they both knew it. Loki's face went horribly blank once more, and he jerked away, looking back at his feet. Tony decided to plough on.

"What I'm trying to say is that _I don't mind_. And you might be a demigod and a killer and, uh, _insane_, but I…uh, I kinda liked having you around. For a while."

Loki nodded, still staring pointedly at the floor.

Tony got to his feet more than a little awkwardly (but hey, who could blame him, he was trying to deal with the aftermath of a - what, a one night stand? - with a damn Norse god, and there weren't manuals for this). Then, on a whim, he leant over and planted a kiss on Loki's forehead.

"Just, think about it," he said, before Loki could respond. "That last attack, that…that really hit a nerve, but I can try and talk the others down a little." He shrugged. "Might make them more willing to listen."

Loki nodded again. Tony turned to go, but just as he reached the door, the god spoke.

"Thank you, Stark."

Tony didn't know what to say to that, so he simply nodded, and left.


	11. Chapter 11

As ever, thank you all for the reviews and such like. Can't remember if I've said this before, but I'm currently in the middle of study leave/exams, and reading the things you write seriously cheers me up. And when you're...enjoying the myriad delights of Latin grammar, campaign finance and the US judiciary? Yeah, you need all the cheering up you can damn well get.

...anyway, enjoy ^^

* * *

For the rest of that day, Tony padded around his lab, pointedly _not_ looking at the security footage of Loki's cell.

He didn't know what he was meant to be feeling. Other than goddamn _confusion_. His thoughts skittered about - _how would Thor look at you if he knew and really back on Asgard was Loki the kind of guy who_ - refusing to settle, but they always came back to Loki.

_Fuck_.

Tony leant back, scrubbing his hands over his face.

_This is fucking ridiculous. Get a grip._

And hey, he was Tony Stark, he'd survived torture and fuck-tons of survivor's guilt and all kinds of fucking butchery, emotional and physical, and if there was one thing he could do it was _get a fucking handle on his feelings._

_Okay._ He forced himself to slow down, to think it through logically.

_Loki._

What _exactly_ did he feel for him?

He closed his eyes, summoned an image of the god's face to mind. Smirking. Bright, bright green eyes, and a pale throat that led down to a paler chest, and-

_For fuck's sake_. Tony's eyes flickered open. Okay, lust. Fine. He lusted after him. _Fine_. He already knew that he was basically a teenager, perpetually stuck at the mental age of seventeen. So, yeah. Lust.

What else?

He thought. Sympathy. Yeah, there was definitely some sympathy in there somewhere. And not just because of the way Loki had looked swamped in bandages, cut to ribbons. Loki was a god, of sorts - Tony was fairly sure he could suffer a few flesh wounds and still come out smirking. No, it was the way he'd convinced himself that he was _evil_, that he could never be anything but a malicious, terrifying monster - the way he played up to people's expectations, because those kind of expectations just won't ever fully wash away, and what else could you do about it except play the part people had given you, play it to the hilt-

(_"How about 'the merchant of death'?" "That's not bad."_)

And maybe Loki was evil, maybe, at heart, he was as malicious and sadistic as he seemed. But Tony had been a heartless bastard (in more than the literal sense) once too, still was, according to some, and…yeah, he could sympathise.

He thought of Loki staring up at the sky from the roof of Stark Tower, spinning him tales of myths and molecules, advanced science, old legends, a web of words glittering in the dark. So, interest. Because Tony was incurably curious, and Loki was clever, and he wanted to know - he wanted to know what went on in his head, how he put the universe together. He wanted to know how his goddamn magic worked, and how it could be compared to and combined with science.

Tony knew that Loki was as dangerous as hell. He was mercurial, deeply unstable, a mess of razor sharp wit and howling rage, and Tony couldn't help it, he was kinda fond of him.

"JARVIS," he murmured to the empty lab. "I think I might be completely fucked in the head."

"Records would indicate that you are correct, sir," JARVIS replied smoothly.

ooo

"Listen, I'm not saying we should _let him off entirely_, I just thought we could give the guy a break!"

The others goggled at him.

"Stark, he nearly ripped your fucking head off," Hawkeye said. "Why are you suddenly his best friend?"

Tony shrugged. "So did Thor, first time we met. Must be an Asgard thing."

Steve looked from Tony to Hawkeye and back again, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Tony, I've got to agree with Clint on this one. Loki's _dangerous_. Why do you care so much?"

"Well, what can I say, Cap," Tony said, with a broad shrug. "I'm a kind and caring person."

Steve just raised his eyebrows at that. Tony pushed himself to his feet.

"Hey, do what you like," he said. "At least I'm suggesting _something_. We can't just keep him in a box in the basement forever, and the research we were doing - hey, Banner, back me up on this - the things we were discovering, they're the kinda things that could help us in the end. Give me another week with him, and I can guarantee I'll have found a way to block his magic. Or the effects of it, at least. Which means that we might be able to actually _keep_ him in a cell for once. Or if not, hey, at least we won't have a repeat of the cat incident."

"Banner, what do you think?" Natasha spoke softly.

Bruce shrugged, glancing up at the others. "Tony's right, the research was…useful. And interesting. But it's, uh, it's up to you. Whether you think it's worth it or not."

"I'll think about it," Steve said. Tony counted it as a small victory.

ooo

That night, Loki appeared in Tony's bedroom. He was wearing what Tony thought of as his _normal clothes_ - black pants, loose green shirt, bare feet - and he looked as haggard as ever. The bruises along his cheek and jaw were beginning to turn black.

Tony didn't bother questioning how he'd gotten out of his cell.

"Well, what a surprise," he said instead, pushing himself to his feet. Loki's eyes followed him as he padded across the room to the bar, a guarded expression on his face. "Drink?"

"Shouldn't you be sounding some kind of alarm?"

Tony shrugged. "Should be. Probably won't." He searched through the shelves, eventually selecting a small bottle and two shot glasses. He filled them both, and pushed one across the table. "Here, try this. Apparently it's really, really expensive."

Loki stared at him, and Tony could practically hear the cogs of his mind whirring. Clearly this wasn't the welcome he'd been expecting. Eventually, he must have come to some kind of decision, because he came over to the bar and slid onto a stool with a slight wince.

Tony nudged the glass further towards him. "Here."

Loki took it, eyed it suspiciously, and then - with a small shrug that kinda said _fuck it_ - downed it in one. Tony followed suit.

"Sometimes I think you're trying to get me to drink myself to death," Loki said wryly, rolling the empty glass between his fingers. Tony snorted.

"Not my best plan, huh?"

"Not really."

Somehow, it felt comfortable, almost _companionable_, this strange, late-night visit. They drank on, exchanging smirks and snappy comments, and Tony found himself thinking _you know, this is okay_. When the bottle was empty and Loki followed him back to bed, Tony found that he didn't mind. They ended up sleeping back to back, and when Tony woke late the next morning, Loki was back in his cell. According to the security footage, he had never left.

ooo

The next morning, Fury arrived (and _boy_ was he pleased at how well they'd managed to keep tabs on Loki in his absence). The apparent purpose of his visit was to shout at them all, and to question their mental stability. This was a task he engaged in with gusto.

It was just as Steve was explaining that, no, really, they'd improved their security and there was absolutely _no way_ Loki would manage to escape again that the god himself appeared in the centre of the meeting room, a slight smirk on his face.

_Well,_ Tony thought. _At least he hasn't lost his sense of comic timing._

The others' reactions were fairly predictable. All of them sprang back with cries of alarm. Fury, Natasha and Clint all drew weapons from _somewhere_, and Tony didn't want to know why Clint and Natasha were carrying handguns this early in the morning. Thor had fallen into a fighting stance, Mjölnir raised.

Loki simply rolled his eyes.

"Oh, _do_ put those away," he said.

"Why should we?" Clint shot back, his gun aimed squarely at Loki's head.

Fury didn't give Loki a chance to respond.

"What do you want?" he said. "And Stark, after this we are having a _conversation_ about your goddamn security!"

"What do you want, Loki?" Natasha echoed Fury. Like Clint, she kept her gun at head-height, pointing directly at Loki's face.

"I want to talk," he said carefully. Clint snorted.

"So, talk," Natasha went on.

"What is this, brother?" Thor growled. Tony winced internally.

Loki spun round to face the other god.

"Do not call me brother," he said. "Ever." He turned back to Fury, and continued as if Thor had not spoken. "I am weary of this. I am pursued, and not only by you. The Chitauri. And others."

"That's your own damn fault," Fury retorted. "Why should I give a damn who's pursuing you?"

"Come, Fury," Loki returned drily. "Don't you think a truce might be better for the health of your team?"

"Letting you come and go as you please? I'm not seeing the benefits."

Loki smirked at that, his eyes flickering to the bruises on Steve's face, Clint's bandaged fingers. "Oh, I think you do," he said softly.

Bruce was the next one to speak.

"What is it that you want? Protection?"

"As I said, a cessation of hostilities. The research that Stark has been conducting has been most enlightening."

"And what, you want to be able to join in?" Bruce asked, just as Clint interjected - "Bullshit!"

Loki raised his eyebrows.

"Is it really so beyond belief that I might be _interested_ in the way the universe works?"

"Usually you're trying to destroy it," Fury muttered. Loki gave him a withering look.

"I am power-crazed," he said. "Not omnicidal."

"What do you think of this?" Bruce murmured to Tony.

Suddenly, everyone in the room was looking at him. Tony felt his mouth go dry.

"Uh," he said.

"I would be willing to submit to any conditions you care to mention," Loki said suddenly. "Keep me in a cell, guard me night and day, I care not. Difficult as it may be for you to grasp, on this occasion my only interest is Stark's research."

Fury scowled, and Tony held his breath. Finally, he nodded.

"Only because we don't know what the hell to do with you," he said. "And I swear to god, if you try anything, I will have you killed." The bluntness of it startled Tony, and he obviously wasn't the only one; Bruce sucked in a hasty breath, and Steve straightened up abruptly, opening his mouth to speak. Fury cut him off. "Rogers, you might not carry out executions, but there are other organisations that do. If Loki proves himself too dangerous to be kept alive, we _will not keep him alive_. Do you understand?"

Steve opened and closed his mouth a few times, but in the end he simply nodded. Tony noticed that his hands were clenched into fists.

A lazy smile spread across Loki's face.

"Well, then," he said, in a voice as smooth as silver. "I suppose I had better behave."

* * *

I couldn't keep Loki depressed for long, I like his snarking too much.


	12. Chapter 12

So, that was how Tony found himself back in his makeshift lab by Loki's old cell. It was bizarre - minus the guards at the edges of the room and the property damage (and he didn't want to think about how Loki had managed to tear the door from its hinges, how angry he must have been to twist the metal so viciously) it was almost like Loki's disastrous break-out had never happened.

Of course, there were other, more subtle differences. Like the way they now stood close together, on the same side of the desk, poring over the same blueprint, the same sheet of equations. Like the way Loki didn't scowl at Tony's insults, his innuendos; like the way his threats seemed to be designed to entertain Tony and frighten their guards, rather than simply unsettle all of them.

Like the way heat prickled under Tony's skin when Loki's hand happened to brush against his arm.

Surprisingly, Loki took his imprisonment with pretty good grace. Which meant, of course, that he was an annoying, smirking little bastard, _all the time_. Several of the cats re-appeared, all of whom would puff up and turn green when startled. Oddly, Bruce seemed to like them, and began to keep one of them in his lab. Fury was less amused.

The problem was, the more time Tony spent around Loki, the more he _liked_ him. They had much the same sense of humour (on his second day in captivity, Loki had cloned himself, and the looks on the guards' faces when they'd found themselves guarding not one but _seventeen_ Lokis? Tony was going to savour that for a long time), the same propensity for sarcasm and general _ridiculousness_. He was also incredibly clever - and seriously, by Tony's standards, that was saying something - and had mastered the principles of advanced physics more quickly than he would have believed possible ("Really, Stark, it's not _that_ complicated.").

It didn't help that Tony found him _painfully _attractive. Hell, he knew he was a complete whore, and quite possibly the worst flirt in the known universe, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd found it so damn hard to concentrate just because of - well. Tony found himself spending a disproportionate amount of time eying the pale skin of Loki's throat, the slight ridge of his spine, his wrists, his _hands_. The first time Loki caught him, he simply let his eyes _slide _over Tony with a suggestive smirk, and that - that was far more distracting than it should have been as well.

ooo

Of course, it could only last for so long. Three days into their (uneasy) alliance, Tony went down to the lab to find the computers going wild. Loki was hunched over a screen, a deep frown on his face.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know," Loki murmured, without turning. "There's an energy fluctuation, small scale. As if someone's opened a portal of some kind."

Tony tapped a few buttons, scowled at the energy readings.

"This can't be right," he said. "It's almost like-"

But he didn't get to finish. At that moment, there was a deafening _crack_, and the lab filled with a bizarre blue light. Several of the guards cried out, and Tony spun around, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu as he reached out for something - _anything_ - to use as a weapon -

Then he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in the side of his neck, and the world faded to black.

ooo

He woke up in a cell.

It took him a moment to realise what had happened, and where he was. Whatever they'd drugged him with had left his thoughts fuzzy, his limbs uncoordinated, his head pounding. So when he found himself sprawled on a hard, cold floor, yeah, it took Tony a moment to figure out what was going on.

When he raised his head and saw the décor - _bare concrete walls, plain iron door, neon lights, man, whoever designed this place should get an award_ - it became pretty obvious.

_Definitely a cell._

"Ah, you're awake."

Loki was sitting with his back to the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest. The harsh neon lights made his bruises look even worse, a series of livid purple marks stretching across his cheek and down to the line of his jaw.

"Unghalj," Tony managed. His mouth didn't seem to want to co-operate. He pushed himself into a sitting position, pointedly ignored the dizzy, nauseous feeling that threatened to overwhelm him whenever he moved too sharply, and tried again. "What happened?" This time his voice was only slightly slurred.

Loki shrugged.

"I suppose you would call it a kidnapping," he said, delicately. Tony noticed that his expression was slightly dazed, that his hands were trembling, just a little. "They teleported us here, which was…unpleasant. I know not what they intend for us."

"How'd they get you here? Couldn't you just…incinerate them, or, or teleport away or something?"

Loki shook his head. When he next spoke, he sounded almost irritated.

"They struck me with a weapon of some sort. It was…effective."

Tony felt a moment of panic then. He forced it away. _Concentrate_.

"So…you can't use your magic?"

Loki shook his head, his face grim.

"It is…present, but weakened. Although I think it will return, given time."

Suddenly, Tony became aware of a noise outside their cell door. He gestured for Loki to be silent, and surprisingly, the god obeyed, cocking his head to one side, _listening_. Tony heard footsteps, voices, a rattling of keys, and then -

The door of their cell grated open, and three men strode in. Tony just managed to catch a glimpse of the corridor outside - dim, with bare pipes spidering over the walls - before the door slammed shut behind them. Two of the men were obviously guards - radios, keys and ID cards, big guns, vacant expressions, Bronze Age bone structure. Yeah, definitely guards.

The other man could only be described as…well, _menacing_. Unlike the guards, who wore identical uniforms (emblazoned, Tony saw with a sudden jolt of horror, with the SHIELD logo) this man wore a plain suit. He held a small, taser-like device in one hand. He was grinning the kind of grin that made Tony think of madness and blood and there was something manic in his eyes.

As soon as they appeared, Loki had straightened up, twisting his hands, but before he could complete whatever spell he'd been trying to cast, the man in the suit lashed out. A bolt of energy leapt from the device in his hands and hit Loki squarely in the chest, sending him flying back into the wall with a _crack_.

"Now, now, now. We'll have none of that," the man said, and his voice was a silky whisper.

For a moment, no-one spoke. There was a rustle of fabric as Loki drew himself back into a sitting position, a murderous expression on his face. Tony simply clenched his jaw and fought off the urge to simply throw himself at the guards, maybe try and get one of those guns, maybe-

_No._ He glanced back at Loki who, despite the rage in his eyes, was slumped bonelessly against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. _I don't think brute force is gonna work here._

"What do you want?" he asked. The man _tsk_ed.

"So hasty, Mr. Stark," he said, and Tony felt himself bristle at his tone. He didn't like to be fucking _patronised_.

"I think I've got a right to be _hasty_," he spat.

The man went on, as if he hadn't spoken.

"I am Agent Heriot, formerly of SHIELD."

At that, Tony's ears pricked up. _Formerly of SHIELD? Not good. Definitely not good._

"I have found your recent research most fascinating, Mr. Stark," Heriot went on, smoothly. "My associates and I are interested, very interested. Unfortunately, we are more interested in the…military possibilities that your research might offer, rather than simple theory."

"You want to make weapons," Tony said bluntly. His mind was running over the events of the past few weeks - the cameras, the missing blueprints, devices he thought he'd _lost_, tiny things, things he'd brushed over and forgotten about. Old conversations echoed in his head - _"…perhaps I would escape those who pursue me…" _- and he suddenly felt like kicking himself. _Stupid, so stupid._

Heriot was smirking. "Quite."

"Well, make your damn weapons, then," Tony said flippantly. "You've been stealing my blueprints for fuckin' _weeks_, I don't see what you need us for."

At that, Heriot laughed, an oily, whispering sound that made Tony's skin crawl. "You're a funny man, Mr. Stark. Ah, you have been carrying your research in the wrong direction. You have been investigating the _theory_ behind interdimensional rifts, travel, teleportation. Your progress is slow. We would have you concentrate on opening _new_ rifts, rather than investigating those that already exist."

Tony felt a chill.

"Why?" he asked.

Heriot gave him a nasty smile. "Human beings are weak. A million human soldiers are worth nothing in the face of gods and demons. I believe far greater strength can be found on worlds beyond our own."

With that, he gestured to the guards, one of whom turned to tap on the cell door. The door opened, and the guards filed out. For a moment, Heriot stood framed in the doorway, his head tilted to one side, as if considering something. Then, without warning, he lashed out, and another bolt of energy flew from the device in his hand. When it struck Loki he stiffened and gave a cry of pain, before sinking back against the wall.

"You work for us now, Mr. Stark," Heriot said silkily. "I trust that you will not forget it."

The moment the cell door was closed, Tony went over to Loki. He was conscious, but shaking and pale. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and his teeth were gritted in rage.

"I am going to _kill_ him," he snarled.

"Yeah, you're not the only one considering it," Tony muttered darkly. He took hold of Loki's shoulders, pushed him into a slightly more upright position, and then sat down next to him, leaning back against the wall.

"Formerly of SHIELD," Loki said, when his breathing had returned to normal. "Interesting."

"I'll say." Tony gave Loki a sidelong glance. He was staring into the middle distance, still panting slightly, his head tipped back. "You okay?"

Loki's eyes flickered to him. He moved one shoulder up and down in a half-hearted shrug.

"Why, Stark. How sweet."

Tony rolled his eyes.

"What the hell is he gonna make us do?" he said, gesturing to the door.

"Oh, it's simple," Loki said tiredly. "He intends to open a portal, and create an army from whatever monsters emerge. _Humans_. Your hubris will never cease to astonish me."

"You think he'll fail?"

"Oh, it will be easy enough for him to open a portal," Loki said flippantly. "Whether he'll be able to control what comes through it is another matter entirely."

There was a pause, and then he went on in a much lower voice.

"A single one of my children" he said haltingly. "Could tear this world apart. Easily. And they are not the vilest creatures that dwell in the darker realms."

His voice was barely above a whisper, yet there was something sharp in it, some pain that had never properly faded.

"Your…?" Tony got the feeling that he was treading on very thin ice.

But Loki just gave a sigh, and straightened up a little.

"It matters not," he said. "We must decide upon a course of action. I would not have this world destroyed."

"No?" Tony gave him a smarmy grin. "I thought you _liked _destroying worlds."

"Honestly, Stark," Loki said, in a long-suffering voice. "If I ever subjugate this miserable rock of yours, I would rather have _something_ left to rule."

* * *

So, we have villains. I know Amora and Doom have become kind of the go-to villains for Avengers fanfic, but when I was writing this, I didn't know enough about them to write them with any accuracy, so I figured that I'd just come up with someone new. So...yeah.


	13. Chapter 13

This has more than 300 reviews now o.o Thank you all so much. The level of attention is somewhere between excellent and unnerving.

Just a short chapter today . Enjoy.

* * *

The next morning - well, Tony _assumed_ it was morning; the cell had no windows, and he didn't wear a watch - several guards swarmed into their cell. Approximately half of them carried guns; the other half held small, black devices, identical to the one Heriot had used on Loki the previous day.

"Hey, wait!"

When two of them seized Loki and dragged him up, Tony scrambled to his feet. Loki attempted to yank himself away from the guards, but they held on tight.

"I can _walk_ by myself," he snarled. The guards didn't let go.

"Where are you taking him?" Tony asked.

"Away," was the curt reply. Two more guards stepped forwards, and Tony realised - with a slight thrill of fear - that one of them was carrying what looked like a rough burlap sack. He struggled, lashed out, lunged after Loki, but it was no use. Two guards caught his arms in a vice-like grip, whilst another pulled the sack over his head. The last thing he saw was Loki, being half-marched, half-dragged from the cell.

Tony forced back the panic rising in his chest and throat, fought away images of a dark, dark cave and car batteries and troughs full of water and the feeling of _oh god I'm drowning they're going to kill me oh god_ - gritted his teeth, tried to _concentrate_. The guards' hands were still clamped around his arms, and they were forcing him forwards.

They marched him down several corridors, dragging him when he stumbled. What felt like an eternity passed before they came to a halt. When the pressure around his arms disappeared, Tony stumbled, and fell to his knees. The floor beneath his hands was rough and cold - more concrete. Hesitantly, Tony reached up. When no-one stopped him, he yanked the hood off, and took a look around.

He was in another concrete cell, larger this time, containing a few workbenches. There were crates stacked along the walls. Pulling himself to his feet, Tony saw that the workbenches were covered in neat piles of paper. Blueprints, equations, plans. He recognised his own handwriting on one sheet of paper, and snorted.

_Loki had the right idea. I'm gonna fucking kill these guys._

His guards stood at the edge of the room, their faces impassive. When Tony turned to them, one of them took a few steps forwards, and handed him a note.

_Mr. Stark,_ the note read, and Tony could practically hear Heriot's cold, oily voice shaping the words.

_I intend for you to begin your work immediately. I trust your working environment is to your satisfaction. Below are your specifications. Be aware that I will be checking your progress personally, and any delay or deviation will be punished severely. _

Beneath the message was indeed a set of specifications, along with a list of equipment. Tony snorted, and crumpled the note into a ball.

"Hey," he said to the guards, giving them a grim smile. "I'm not doing anything until you bring my colleague back. You mighta seen him. Six feet of psychotic Norse god. And you really, really might want to reconsider pissing him off, because _boy_ can he throw a temper tantrum."

For a moment, the guards didn't respond. Then one of them stepped forward, and struck Tony across the face. It was a brutal blow, hard enough to knock him to the ground, and when Tony pulled himself back to his feet, he could taste blood.

"You'll do your work," the guard said.

"No, I won't," Tony gritted out. "Not 'til you bring my friend back."

He could worry about the accuracy of describing Loki as his _friend_ later. The guards looked at each other, and one of them stepped forward once more. Tony raised his hands.

"Look," he said. "We can do this all goddamn day if you like, but I won't be able to do a damn thing if you give me a concussion. And I'm not doing this, not until you bring Loki back."

The guards looked at each other again. Eventually, they nodded, and one of them left the room, muttering something into his radio.

Tony sat cross-legged on the floor, and waited.

ooo

Hours passed. Tony sat still, fighting off the gnawing boredom, forcing himself not to move because he was _making a goddamn point_, and stared at his new guards. They didn't meet his gaze, and they didn't move.

Eventually, his original guards reappeared, dragging with them a dazed, stumbling Loki, whom they dumped in an inelegant heap at Tony's feet.

Tony rolled Loki onto his back, jostling his shoulders a little.

"Hey, uh, Loki? You alive?"

"Yes, Stark," Loki muttered exasperatedly, without opening his eyes. "I'm alive."

Tony swallowed a grin. Hey, being locked up with someone else was a fuckton better than being locked up by yourself. Even if that someone happened to be an insane demigod with an unfortunate proclivity for mass-murder.

Eventually, Loki rolled onto his side with a groan, and managed to get into a sitting position. He looked around the lab, and shot Tony a quizzical glance.

"Here," Tony said, passing him the crumpled note. Loki smoothed it out, and examined it with a frown. He was very pale, and Tony noticed that his hands were still trembling slightly. That made _something_ flare in the pit of his stomach, although he didn't know whether it was anger or fear or something else entirely.

"He's clever," Loki said eventually.

"Not as clever as I am."

The god shot him a sly glance. "No," he agreed, and Tony felt warmth spread in his chest.

_Oh my god,_ he thought. _How old are you, twelve? What's next, blushing and giggling?_

He cleared his throat and looked away, gesturing to the lab around him.

"I guess we'd better get to work," he said. Loki raised one eyebrow.

"You intend to co-operate?"

Tony shrugged. "Don't see that we have a lot of choice. But, hey, we'd better be damn careful with all these weapons. They could do all sorts of things. They could backfire, or malfunction, or _explode_, seriously, you should see what happens when a teleportation device goes wrong." He gave a low whistle, and gestured to the sheet of paper in Loki's hand. "Something that big, a malfunction could blow this base wide open."

A devilish smirk spread across Loki's face. He offered Tony his hand, and taking it, Tony dragged him to his feet.

"You've played this game before, Stark" he murmured into his shoulder.

"I have."


	14. Chapter 14

God, I had such an argument with this chapter . Anyway, as ever, thank you very much for reviews/comments/faves, and I hope you like it ^^

* * *

Tony spent most of that day sorting through crates of equipment. The things Heriot wanted them to build were ridiculous, the kind of weapons that could quite easily be used to rip holes in the fabric of reality, and Tony knew he should really have been freaking out more about being in the hands of torturers and lunatics, about SHIELD apparently being full of double agents, but no. All he could think was _holy shit, this guy fucking redefines "megalomaniac"_. The level of sheer insanity - because this guy thought he could just tear the universe open and make an army out of whatever appeared - was almost _funny_, in a fucking frightening way.

The guards watched them constantly, which made communication damn well impossible. Tony had managed to speak to Loki just once, a rushed whisper - _look for transistors, let me sort the weapons_ - but even that had earned him a shifty look from Heriot's double agents, so for the most part, they worked in silence.

Still, he was fairly sure he and Loki could have managed to escape, given time. Hell, between them they probably possessed enough IQ points to blow Einstein out of the water, and Heriot had very kindly supplied them with an entire lab full of the kind of equipment that you needed to build weapons. So yeah, call him overconfident, but Tony was pretty sure they could've done it.

ooo

After six hours or so of sorting through blueprints and tools and half-built machines (and hey, they might have been in mortal peril, but by that point Tony was starting to get kind bored), they were escorted back to their cell.

They came to a halt, and he heard the door grating shut behind them, but the guards didn't let go of his arms. In fact, if anything, they held on tighter, one on each side, both of them pinning his arms behind his back.

When the sack was yanked off his head, he saw that Loki was standing against the cell's opposite wall, similarly immobilised. Heriot was standing between them, a piece of paper in his hand.

For some reason, the look on his face made something cold pool in the pit of Tony's stomach.

"'We'd better be damn careful with all these weapons. They could do all sorts of things. They could backfire, or malfunction, or explode,'" Heriot said delicately, reading from the piece of paper. With a jolt, Tony recognised his own words from the day before. Heriot turned to him, and went on reading. "'Look for transistors, I'll sort out the weapons'. Do you think me a fool, Mr. Stark?"

The cold feeling in Tony's stomach was intensifying.

_Fear, _he thought. _Yeah, that's definitely fear. Damn. _

Heriot paced forwards, until he was standing less than a foot away. "We won't tolerate that kind of talk," he said, very softly."

"Is that so?" Tony said. "What are you gonna do, _gag_ us while we work?"

Heriot didn't bother to reply. With one finger, he drew the neckline of Tony's shirt down. Tony twitched back, but the guards held him in place. Slowly, Heriot traced the outline of the arc reactor and then - and Tony found that his mind had gone nauseatingly blank, that all he could think was _fuck fuck fuck_ - he took hold of the metal casing, and _pulled_.

The arc reactor slid out a couple of millimetres, sending a jolt of pain through Tony's chest. Heriot smirked at the way he gasped, then pushed the arc reactor back in.

"I trust I have made my point perfectly clear, Mr. Stark."

He turned away, gesturing to the guards, and suddenly the hands clamped around Tony's upper arms were gone. As Heriot and the guards filed out, he found himself on his knees, slumped against the wall, gasping for breath.

"Shit," was all he could say. "Holy _fuck_, holy fuck."

"Stark?"

He had almost forgotten that he was sharing a cell. But hey, nearly having a cardiac arrest could really make you ignorant of your surroundings.

_Uh, major freak out in front of Loki, _he thought desperately. _Not the best idea. Fuck. Holy - get a fucking grip. Get a fucking grip. _

"I'm - I'm okay," he panted, pushing himself onto his hands and knees. "I'm okay, 'm fine."

"Now might not be the most expedient moment for a panic attack," Loki murmured. Tony laughed, but even he could tell that it sounded slightly hysterical.

He heard a rustle as Loki padded across the cell. The god knelt down next to him and then - very hesitantly - placed one hand on his shoulder. The touch was oddly comforting.

Tony swallowed, gritted his teeth and _forced_ himself to calm down. He held his breath, counted to ten - well, seven, he'd always been kinda impatient - and opened his eyes.

"I'm fine," he said, and this time his voice didn't shake.

Loki nodded, and drew away, getting back to his feet in one smooth motion. Tony slid back against the wall, and watched as Loki began to pace, first letting his fingers run over the concrete walls, and then simply scowling at the floor, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"You planning to walk around in circles all night?" he said, eventually.

Loki shot him a glare.

"As opposed to?"

Tony shrugged.

"I figure I'll function better if I get some sleep."

In truth, Tony doubted he'd be able to even sit still for five minutes, let alone fall asleep. The feeling of being _locked up_, in the power of men who were willing to hurt him, cut off from the outside world - it grated on him, a constant feeling of claustrophobia crawling under his skin. And Heriot's little trick with the arc reactor? Not fucking helpful. But hey, it didn't hurt to try. And he didn't want to give Heriot the satisfaction of seeing him fall apart.

"You got your magic back yet?"

"No," Loki snapped, his voice loud in the close confines of the cell. He gave Tony a pointed look, and Tony suddenly remembered the guards outside.

_Right_.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was almost solid, an oppressive weight in the air.

_Stop being such a damn coward_, a voice in the back of Tony's mind muttered.

He took a deep breath.

"So, you gonna explain what last week was all about?"

Loki just stared at the ground, a mulish expression on his face. He was wearing the clothes they'd given him, and standing there in sweatpants and a scruffy t-shirt, his hair falling over his face and his arms crossed over his chest, he looked so much like a sullen teenager that Tony wanted to laugh.

"C'mon, don't play dumb," he said instead. "Last week. I mean, we were getting along pretty well, and then-"

"It is as I told you," Loki muttered, still staring at the floor. "It was an _act_."

"Bullshit," Tony said. Okay, maybe it wasn't the most _eloquent_ response, but hey, he wasn't the one they called silvertongue. He paused for a moment and tried to collect his thoughts. _Playing therapist again. I should put it on my damn business cards_. "Okay. Maybe I'm an idiot. But. That wasn't - uh. If you were acting, there are way more effective things you could've done. You could've set Banner off, or compromised Steve, or, hell, you could've just _hacked into_ my damn brain, if you were that interested, you know you could've. That stuff, on the roof, that goddamn fight we had - and that was a _hell_ of a fight, by the way, I would congratulate you, but, uh, loyalties and all - that wasn't all acting."

"Maybe I am simply a very good actor."

"Maybe," Tony shrugged. "But you know what I think? I think you were being honest. Not all the time, but on the roof, yeah, I think that was honesty. Probably not intentional. And then you - what, you had a freak out?"

"I'm a god," Loki said witheringly. "I don't have _freak outs_."

"Well, what was that then? PMS? No, you got out of your damn comfort zone, and then you destroyed half an apartment block. Why?"

"Because I was _angry_," Loki spat, shooting Tony the kind of glare that could melt titanium. He felt a jolt of fear, but pushed on regardless.

"Yeah, I gathered," he said. "I'm just trying to damn well _understand_. I mean, you - you broke my neck, and then a couple hours later, we were - well." He made a helpless gesture. Something like a smirk flickered across Loki's face. "But I mean, even _before_ - and fuck, don't tell Steve I said this, he'd fucking _kill _me - we worked together. Hell, I _liked_ you." At that, Loki's eyes flickered up. The expression on his face was unreadable. "So, just - I don't know, just try and give me the short version, because I'm trying to understand. Why did you do it?"

For a moment Loki just stared at him. Then - suddenly - he seemed to come to some kind of agreement with himself. He stalked across the cell, and slid down against one of the walls, so that he and Tony were sitting at right angles. When he next spoke, his voice was quieter.

"You of all people should know these things are…not always easy to explain."

"Well, you're clever," Tony said shortly. "Try."

Loki scowled faintly. "Our guards will be listening."

Tony snorted. "They just want to make sure we don't escape. They don't give a damn if we're having impromptu therapy sessions. Anyway, stop avoiding the damn question. Why were you angry?"

Loki simply shook his head. For a long moment, he stared at his knees. There was a slight frown on his face, an expression that lingered somewhere between confusion and pain. When he eventually spoke, his voice was so low it was nearly inaudible.

"I…am not…accustomed to honesty," he began slowly. _You don't fucking say,_ Tony thought, but he bit his tongue. _Damn, that was dangerously close to tact. Maybe by the time I'm sixty I'll be sensitive._ "Nor friendship." By now, Loki was staring at the ground as if he wanted it to swallow him up. He went on, speaking quickly and quietly. "In Asgard, I was always - looked upon with suspicion, and I did little to ingratiate myself with - anyone. On the roof, I did not mean to - perhaps I thought - I know not. When people are faced with things that they do not understand, things that make them feel…compromised, they often react with anger. The trait is not…uniquely human."

"Huh," Tony said. "Right. And - and after?"

Loki smirked at that. "We'll put it down to your innate grace and charm."

"What?" Tony was nonplussed. Then he realised. "Oh - _oh_. Not that. I, uh, I meant _after_. In the cell. You just kinda gave up."

Loki shrugged with one shoulder. "I think I told myself I was _biding my time_." There was a bleak kind of amusement in his voice, half humour, half hopelessness. He made a helpless gesture, and went on. "In truth, I - I am very tired. The Chitauri pursue me. Asgard pursues me. I grow tired of - of _hating_ everything."

There was something horribly sad about that, but Tony couldn't quite figure out _what_.

"So…" he said slowly. "So, you had a freak out."

Loki finally looked up, and gave him a tired smile. "Yes, Stark. I had a freak out."

Tony whistled. "Damn violent freak out."

Loki shrugged again.

_Well, if you're on a roll…._

"And…in the cell? After?" Tony asked tentatively.

Loki sighed. "I am as able to explain that as you are."

"So, how long have you fancied me?" Tony said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "I mean, the window thing, was that your way of asking me out? Because, hey, points for imagination, but, uh, next time, maybe flowers? Or, or something more villainous. Magic biting flowers. Evil flowers."

"You push too far," Loki said, but he was suppressing a smile.

"C'mon, admit it, you just can't resist my _charm_."

Loki snorted. After a pause, he spoke again.

"You know what will happen, Stark. I will be punished, and that punishment is likely to involve vast amounts of pain and degradation." His voice was very neutral, and for a moment Tony wondered what else Loki had been forced to endure, whether he'd been _punished_ before. "Even your people, SHIELD. They will likely execute me, eventually. Or they will hand me over to someone else who will."

"Not if I can damn well help it," Tony muttered.

Loki looked up, and something in his expression softened.

"Very few people would be willing…" his voice trailed off. "Thank you."

Tony shrugged. With a sigh, he straightened up, rolling his shoulders, stretching.

"We probably should try and get to sleep," he said. "Whatever we end up doing tomorrow, I doubt sleep deprivation will make it any more fun."

"Kind of them, to keep us in such luxury," Loki said scathingly, gesturing to the bare concrete cell. Tony snorted. After a pause, Loki shuffled over and leant against him, letting his head rest on Tony's shoulder.

"I do hope you're not planning to tell Rogers about this," he murmured.

"God, no."

At some point, the cell's neon lights clicked off, and Tony - against all expectations - drifted into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Sleeping sitting up against a concrete wall? Massively uncomfortable. But let's ignore that u.u


	15. Chapter 15

Their second day in captivity - and Tony fucking _loathed_ being kept in a cage like a damn _pet_, but he swallowed his anger, kept his mouth shut and his face blank - passed far more quietly. He and Loki worked in almost total silence, working through Heriot's designs, ironing out the faults. Every couple of hours, one of their guards would take their plans and return them without a word after ten minutes or so - _copying them_, Tony realised.

Once, he saw a circuit board simply _disappear_ in Loki's hands. He didn't remark upon it.

_No magic here, no sir._

That night, they received no visit from Heriot.

ooo

Tony woke in what he assumed were the early hours of the morning to a blaring alarm. Loki had sprung to his feet and was trying to keep his balance as the floor of their cell shook and buckled. The entire room was shaking violently.

And then everything was still. The alarm cut out, and the cell was plunged into darkness.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Tony hissed.

He heard a rustle, and then a small orb of golden light appeared, revealing Loki, who was standing by the door. Illuminated from below, he looked positively ethereal, a portrait of bruised skin and pooling shadows.

"An earthquake," he said softly. "The corridor outside is empty, along with the rest of the base, if I'm not mistaken."

"Wait," Tony said, feeling more confused by the minute. "I thought your magic hadn't come back."

Loki gave him a withering look. "I was _lying_, Stark."

Tony remembered disappearing circuit boards, and suddenly felt incredibly stupid.

"Now," Loki turned back to the cell door, and laid one hand against it. He closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head. "Something is…not right."

Tony's mouth went a little dry. "Wh- can't you get us out?"

Loki shook his head again, his eyes flaring open. "There is _something_, a presence…I know not what." Suddenly, he tilted his head back, struck by some sudden realisation, and laughed to himself. "Oh, those _fools_." He turned back to Tony. "They've opened a portal."

"What?" Tony was aghast. They'd polished Heriot's plans, yeah, _a little_, but any portal he opened would be as unstable as all hell.

"Clearly Heriot couldn't wait for your expertise," Loki said. "Stupid, impatient fool that he was." He made a small noise of frustration. "It is not safe to me to transport us elsewhere, not now. I do not know what influences are at work."

"Can't you even get the door open?"

Loki shook his head. "Too dangerous."

"Okay," Tony said. He swallowed. "Okay. So we wait."

ooo

And Christ, was it an agonising wait. After a little while, the ball of light Loki had conjured flickered out, leaving them in darkness.

Loki padded about the cell, although Tony had no idea how he managed to do it without tripping over his own feet. Tony gritted his teeth, leant back against the wall, and forced himself not to freak out. Or die of boredom.

Hours seemed to pass, and Tony was just beginning to wonder if they were going to _die_ down here, if they were just going to slowly starve to death, if gods _could_ even starve to death, when he felt a hand on his arm, and Loki was suddenly there.

"Someone is coming," a smooth voice murmured into his ear.

"How do you know?"

"Listen," Loki hissed.

Sure enough, after a short pause, something struck the outside of the cell door, hard. Tony felt Loki tense in the darkness next to him.

Another blow, and another, and he heard the cell door begin to buckle and crumple under the pressure. There was light in the corridor outside, a dim, yellow-y light, the kind given off by cheap electric torches.

Tony's mouth was dry.

Suddenly, whatever was out there struck the door one last, mighty blow, breaking through its twisted remains, and stumbled through into the cell.

It took a moment for Tony's eyes to adjust to the torchlight, but when they did, he let out a relieved laugh. Standing in the doorway, one carrying a torch and the other holding Mjölnir aloft, were Steve and Thor.

"Holy shit," he said, jumping to his feet. "You take your fucking time."

"We've had other things to deal with," Steve replied grimly.

"Yeah, so I see," Tony said, running his eyes over the pair of them. They were both looking pretty battered - Thor's armour was dented and scuffed, and Steve's hair was matted with blood. "What's happened?"

Steve and Thor glanced at each other. "A bunch of SHIELD agents have gone AWOL," Steve said eventually. "They…it's, uh, it's pretty bad, Tony. They've opened up this huge portal, and there are creatures coming through…"

"What kind of creatures?" Loki said softly, coming to stand at Tony's side. He noticed that Thor was looking at his feet. Which, come to think of it, was fucking weird, because Thor? Not the kind of guy to be spooked by a battle. Usually he was the one who charged in first, and came out covered in blood and laughing his head off.

"They - they-" For a moment, Steve was at a loss for words. "Big," he managed. "And alien, definitely alien. Other than that, well." He shrugged helplessly. "They're monsters, Tony. And they're damn hard to kill."

"What does Banner think of it? The portal?" Tony said, because if there was one person who could figure out what was going on, it was Bruce. "I'm assuming he helped you track us down."

"Bruce? Yeah, he found you," Steve said with a rueful grin. "You disappeared and took half your lab with you, and - well, the others thought Loki had pulled a stunt. No offense," he added hurriedly, shooting Loki a concerned look. Loki just rolled his eyes, and gestured for Steve to continue. "But Bruce found these energy readings, and tracked you down."

"Nice. Where are we, anyway?"

"In a warehouse in Massachusetts. Crossed a few state lines, but they didn't take you too far. Listen, Bruce is still working on the portal, trying to figure out a way to close it. It's…it's big, too big for us to deal with."

Tony hummed to himself. "Is he making any progress?"

Steve shrugged again. "He says he could close it from the inside, but obviously that's not an option. At the minute we're on damage control. Here." He pressed something into Tony's hands, something heavy. The portable suit. Tony shot him a grin.

"Well, let me put on my party dress, and we'll get going." He caught Thor's eye. He wasn't exactly looking enthusiastic. In fact, if anything, he looked like a kicked puppy. Tony paused. "What's up, big man?"

Thor didn't reply. This time, it was Loki who spoke.

"Thor?" he said, very softly.

"Brother, I…" Thor began. He couldn't seem to meet Loki's gaze. "The portal has…he's here."

"Who?"

"Fenrir," said Thor, and he spoke as if the word had been torn out of him. "Fenrir is here, brother. I'm - I'm sorry."

Loki inhaled sharply, and Tony knew he should have done his damn homework, knew that there was more to this than met the eye.

For a long moment, Loki was silent, his eyes glittering in the dim light, his face a blank mask. Finally, he seemed to come to some agreement with himself. He nodded. One of his hands flickered in the dark, and suddenly, he was standing there in his full armour. After seeing him in casual clothes for so long, it was intimidating, to say the least.

"Fenrir must be contained," Loki murmured. Thor winced, as if in pain.

"Loki-" he began, but Loki cut him off.

"No," he said, and his voice was quiet and urgent, brooking no contradiction. "No, you know what Fenrir is, and you know that if you try to fight him, he will likely tear half this world apart before you can stop him. I will go to him."

"Brother, he will tear _you_ apart!"

Loki gave a soft, despairing laugh. "Maybe," he admitted. "Or maybe he knows me still. Either way, I know _him_ far better than you ever have."

He turned back to Tony, and gestured to his suit.

"Put that on, Stark. You're going to need it."

* * *

Ordis. You're a damn psychic XD I quote - "Be funny if they did end up summoning Fenrir. They'd be all 'rip up the world creature'..."

Anyway. Melodrama. The suspense is terrible. I hope it lasts. &c.

As ever, thank you for the reviews and faves and suchlike.


	16. Chapter 16

Really sorry for the week-long delay . One word - _exams_

* * *

Steve had been right. It was a fucking mess.

Loki and Thor were as silent as the metaphorical grave (and after that incident with the reanimated corpses, Tony had learnt to be careful with his idioms). Tony and Steve were silent for the most part, too, mostly due to the look on Loki's face.

They made it to the surface in ten minutes or so, and - well.

Tony didn't think he'd ever forget it.

The base was located at the top of a steep hill, and below them, the land was being torn apart. The few buildings Tony could see were smoking, and here and there, gaping cracks had opened up, almost as if some vast creature had clawed the ground open. The portal itself rent the sky in two above their heads. Through it, Tony could see what looked like a vortex of crackling energy and points of light.

And then there were the creatures.

_Holy fucking shit._

They were huge. Like, eldritch-abomination huge. They towered over them, vast, slavering monsters, scaled and snarling and _fucking terrifying_.

"Okay, Cap," Tony said. "Tell me you have a fucking plan."

Even Steve looked a little pale.

"We're driving them back towards the portal," he said. "We can't really hurt them, but if you go for the eyes, they tend to move back, and if we can force them through-"

"I getcha," Tony said. "We're playing sheepdog. Well, let's roll."

ooo

So, they set to work. The others were already fighting - Tony was just in time to see Hawkeye and Widow force a huge, crouching, antlered beast back into the portal with a cheer. Bruce had hulked out, and was going at it with what looked like a leviathan.

Tony joined Steve and Thor in fighting off a creature with tentacles sprouting from its face, and one vast, quivering eye in the centre of its forehead.

"C'mon, Cthulu," he grunted, firing repulsor blasts into its eye. The creature hissed and squealed, swatting at him.

ooo

They fought on until they were nearly spent. By the time the last of the monsters toppled back into the void, they were all covered in sweat, dust and blood, and Tony was beginning to worry about the suit's power levels.

"We're done, right?" he called to Steve. "Because I could use a drink right about now."

"Not yet," Steve yelled back. He gestured to something behind Tony. "Look."

Tony turned, and gaped.

"Fenrir," Thor muttered.

A little way away stood a vast wolf.

And when Tony said vast, he didn't mean _vast_ in the same way that the Empire State Building was vast. Fenrir crouched over the land, almost as tall as the portal itself. His jaws were open in a slavering snarl, and inside, Tony could see a howling abyss.

And there, at Fenrir's feet, impossibly tiny in comparison to the great wolf, stood Loki.

He had never looked more frightening, or more powerful. Energy crackled around him, a shuddering, shifting web, and Tony realised belatedly that despite everything, Loki was still very much a god.

He still didn't fancy his chances against the wolf, though.

Tony lurched forward before he could think about what he was doing, and found Thor blocking his path.

"What are you doing?" he shouted. "We have to go and help him!"

Thor shook his head. "I wish to aid my brother more than any of you, but we cannot. Fenrir is more powerful than any of us. I fear only my brother can reach him."

"Tony," Steve said. "Thor's right. Just look at that thing."

Tony turned back. His heart was pounding, his mouth was dry, and he was itching to just fucking _do_ something, anything, anything other than just _standing there and watching._

For a long while, Loki and Fenrir simply faced each other, power crackling around them.

Then, suddenly, Fenrir lashed out, snapping at Loki, who retaliated with a whiplash of energy. Fenrir shifted back, and the two of them went back to _staring _each other down. After a while, Tony realised that Loki was talking, his lips moving quickly, smoothly. Fenrir had his head cocked to one side, listening.

And then he began to shrink. He grew smaller and smaller, seeming almost to collapse in on himself, until his shoulders were almost level with Loki's. Loki reached out and put one hand on Fenrir's flank, and Tony thought he saw him smile.

Then the two of them turned, and started off towards the portal.

Next to him, Thor gasped. "Brother, _no_-"

But nothing could be done. Fenrir passed through the portal first, a trail of sparks in his wake. Loki paused, the winds of wherever the portal led to snapping at his hair and his cloak, and Tony could have sworn that he turned to look back.

Then he stepped into the abyss, and was gone.

ooo

After that, things were very quiet in Avengers HQ. The portal had closed after Loki's surprise disappearance, so the only thing left for them to do was pick up the pieces and move on.

_Damage control_, Tony thought. _It's always the goddamn damage control_.

Thor was the worst. To his credit, he tried to cover it up. For a week after the battle, he had disappeared, presumably searching for his brother in whatever godforsaken corner of the universe Loki usually favoured. But when Thor returned, he was alone. He ate and drank and fought, and he was just as loud as ever. But now and then Tony would find him staring off into the middle distance, a lost expression on his face.

The others were varied. Natasha didn't comment. Steve, strangely, seemed sad ("C'mon, Tony," he had said in a quiet moment after the battle. "I think he could've been a good guy, given time."), whilst Clint's only hope was that Loki wouldn't return.

As ever, Tony didn't know how he felt.

What had there been, between Loki and him?

_My supervillain boyfriend,_ he thought with a snort. _We should have gone on Jerry Springer._

He had spent a little less than three weeks with Loki. He'd been thrown out of windows and had his neck broken, and he couldn't help it - he _missed_ him.

Still, there was nothing to be done. Fury had categorically forbidden any more research than was necessary when it came to portals. Chances were Loki was either dead, or trapped with his son (and Tony had done the damn research now, fat lot of good that it did him) in the far reaches of the universe. There was only so far that teleportation could get you.

So, Tony worked, and Thor grieved. They repaired the property damage, patched themselves up and moved on. He slept with a couple of supermodels, resigned himself to dreaming of glittering green eyes and lean muscles shifting under pale skin.

ooo

And then, three weeks to the day after Loki had disappeared, Tony woke in the middle of the night to see a figure standing by the bar in his room.

"So, Stark," a familiar voice purred, and he could practically hear the smirk in it. "I believe I owe you a drink."

* * *

*bows*

So, a few notes:

1. I'm not that happy with how this turned out, but I'm too brain-dead at the moment to write a better alternative .

2. Thank you so much for all the reviews etc. Much love for you all :3

3. If I decide to write a sequel...I don't know, I'll add an epilogue to this, and give you a link in the author's notes...? Like I said, I don't know. And if I do write a sequel, it won't be for a while, since I'm slightly preoccupied at the moment .

That's it, I guess o.O Hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
